
mmmmm 






V 



CHURCH READER 



for lent 



COMPILED AND EDITED BY 

x THE REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

•I 




3 - 

21 1885^}/ 



NEW YORK: 
THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE. 
I88 5 . 



c 7 



Copyright, 1885, 
By T. WHITTAKER. 



PRINTED BY 

RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY, 

BOSTON 



Mr. Thomas Whittaker. 

Dear Sir, — During the Lenten season, many of our 
clergy are so occupied that they find little time for pre- 
paring sermons. Desiring to be of some service to them, 
I have taken your suggestion, and compiled this volume. 
The sermons are chiefly condensations ; some have been 
shortened by discarding whole paragraphs ; and others are 
mere extracts from long discourses. They will average 
only about ten minutes in delivery. If they should aid 
any of my younger brethren, relieve the pressure of an 
over-burdened brain, or furnish a crumb of daily bread 
to some hungry soul in private, I shall be thankful and 
happy. 

Yours in Christ, 

J. CROSS. 
66 West 38TH Street, New York, 
Advent-tide, 1884. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

I. True Conversion Cross . . i 

II. Benedicite Grimley . 8 

III. Effectual Repentance Cross . . 16 

IV. The Haunting Spectre Buxton . 23 

V. Temptation Buxton . 28 

VI. Lent in Nineveh Cross . . 33 

VII. The Sleep of Sin Grimley . 42 

VIII. Rest Not Here Cross . . 49 

IX. The Watchman's Warning .... Buxton . 53 

X. Fruit of the Righteous Cross . . 57 

XI. Self-Subjection Grimley . 65 

XII. Leaven of the Kingdom Cross . . 71 

XIII. The Purifying Hope Maclaren 81 

XIV. The Seen and the Unseen .... Grimley . 85 
XV. Drawing Near to God Cross . . 90 

XVI. " The Bridal of the Earth and Sky " Maclaren 95 

XVII. Keeping the Heart ....... Cross . . 101 

XVIII. Man's True Treasure in God. . . Maclaren 104 

XIX. Pursuit of Charity Cross. . 112 

XX. Humanitarianism and Christianity. Grimley. 118 

XXI. Permanence of Love Lipscomb 127 

XXII. Sojourning with God Cross . .135 

XXIII. Christ our Example Ewer. . 143 



VI 



CONTENTS. 



XXIV. The Carnal Mind Parker 

i XXV. Nothing but Leaves .... Buxton 

XXVI. Misericordia Cross . 

XXVII. The Woman at the Well . . Grimley 

XXVIII. Marvels of Mercy Cross . 

XXIX. The Hidden Life Grimley 

XXX. Sin Immeasurably Removed . Cross . 

XXXI. Justification . Fader. 

XXXII. God's Fatherly Compassion . Cross . 

XXXIII. Contentment Buxton 

XXXIV. The Two Mites Grimley 

XXXV. Conviction of Sin Buxton 

XXXVI. Marriage at Cana Gri?nley 

XXXVII. Penitential Confession . . . Buxton 

XXXVIII. Dives and his Brethren . . Grimley 

XXXIX. Christ's New Commandment . Parker 

XL. Redeeming Grace Cross . 

XLI. Sympathy, Human and Divine Grimley 

XLIT. Fenelon's Prayer Etver . 

XLIII. God's Love to Man Fader . 

XLIV. The Mysterious Agony . . . Cross . 

XLV. The Great Sacrifice .'. . . Cross . 

XLVI. The Crucifixion Buxton 

XLVII. The Garden Grave Buxton 



PAGE 
147 

!54 
159 

164 

174 
179 
186 
191 

194 
199 
204 
208 
212 
220 
224 
231 

237 
242 

249 
2 54 
258 
267 
272 
280 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



i. 

TRUE CONVERSION. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

Turn ye even to me with all the heart, and with fasting, and with 
weeping, and with mourning. — Joel\\. 12. 

Again the annual penitential season is upon us. Again 
the Church assumes her sackcloth, and sprinkles her 
locks with ashes, and calls her children to humiliation, 
repentance and prayer. The institution is doubtless of 
apostolic origin, as many of the early Fathers attest ; and 
the chief Christian authorities of the first three centuries 
uniformly recognize its existence as an observance of their 
times. In the year of our Lord 325, the Council of 
Nicaea fixed the period of the fast at forty days, and that 
has been the term of its duration annually down to the 
present day. If Scripture precedent be demanded, it is 
sufficient to cite the example of Moses, who twice fasted 
forty days in Mount Sinai ; and of Elijah, who six centu- 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



ries later kept a fast of the same length in the same 
locality ; and of the king of Nineveh and his people, 
whose fast of forty days turned away from the guilty me- 
tropolis the threatened wrath of Heaven ; and, above all, 
of our divine Master and Pattern, who, preparatory to his 
Messianic ministry, fasted forty days and forty nights in 
the wilderness of Judaea. And surely we of to-day need 
such chastening of our sinful nature, such salutary check 
upon our sinful passions and habits ; and what could be 
more reasonable than that we should once a year thus 
humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God? Let 
us listen, therefore, to the divine summons in the first 
words of the prophetic message appointed for the Ash- 
Wednesday Epistle : " Turn ye even to me with all 
the heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with 
mourning." 

Here is true conversion ; a turning of the mind, the 
will, the affections, the whole inner man, to God ; involv- 
ing a change of heart, a change of habit, a change of 
character, a change of masters and moral relations, such 
a change as may well be called a putting-off of the old 
man and a putting-on of the new. In Scripture repre- 
sentation, it is the lost treasure found, the lost sheep re- 
stored, the lost son returned, the exile recalled from ban- 
ishment, the captive released from servitude, the prisoner 
emerging from his dungeon, the rebel subdued and rec- 
onciled, the convict pardoned and promoted, the blind 
eye opened to the blessed daylight, the sleeper hearing 
the call and awaking to duty, the dead thrilling to the 



TRUE CONVERSION. 3 

quickening voice of Christ, and coming forth from his 
grave. 

True religion enlists all the faculties and affections of 
our spiritual nature. It requires the whole inner man, 
intellectual, emotional, and moral. Without a painful 
consciousness of sin, an ingenuous confession of sin, a 
profound shame and sorrow for sin, an intense hatred and 
entire renunciation of sin, an honest purpose to lead a 
new and better life, an earnest spirit of self-denial and 
self-sacrifice, with frequent and fervent prayer for grace 
to bring all this to good effect, with cordial acquiescence 
in the divine will and joyful acceptance of the divine 
mercy, every attempt at conversion will be an utter fail- 
ure^ Outward amendment there may be, we all know, 
without any corresponding change within. A person may 
cease sinning because temptation or opportunity has 
ceased, or because present circumstances are unfavorable 
to the accustomed indulgence, or because he fears the 
social consequences or the public infamy likely to ensue. 
But will you call this conversion, when you relinquish 
your sins with regret, and give your services to God as 
you would give your purse to the highwayman? If you 
yield to God's requirement from force or fear, what is it 
but the unwilling service of a trembling slave ? Will God 
accept such a service, and say, " Well done, good and 
faithful servant "? Nay, he demands the free-will offer- 
ing of filial love ; he delights in the sacrifice of a broken 
and contrite heart. No heart in it, your religion is all an 
outside show, the shell without the kernel, the vessel with- 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



out the wine, the casket without the gem, the body without 
the soul. Unreal, it is unproductive ; like the tree in the 
picture, bearing no fruit. Whatever of beauty it may 
have is evanescent as the rainbow, which fades away while 
we gaze upon it. It is a character enacted upon the 
stage, and ending with the play. 

In religion, as in the world, the best things are oftenest 
counterfeited. As gold, silver, diamonds, and costly ap- 
parel, are frequently substituted by base and worthless 
imitations ; so are penitence, piety, holiness, and true 
worship, by the vilest arts and inventions of hypocrisy. 
If you knew you were dealing with a cunning cheat, you 
would be on your guard against his knavish artifices ; but 
you have to deal with three grand cheats, leagued for your 
deception and overthrow — Satan, the father of lies ; die 
world, a hollow show, a gilded sham, a fascinating mock- 
ery ; and your own heart, deceitful above all things, and 
desperately wicked, beyond all human knowledge. Will 
you trust them? Better trust the wind, the wave, the 
quicksand, the volcano. King Saul wept, confessed his 
sin, and swore an oath of amity to David ; but David 
knew that heartless tongue too well to place any confi- 
dence in its utterances, even when attended by tears ; and 
" Saul went home, but David and his men gat them up 
unto the hold.' , Herod listened to John with reverence ; 
but, at the instigation of a wicked woman, he cut off the 
prophet's head. The publican of the parable uttered a 
sincere confession ; the sinful woman shed true tears over 
her Saviour's feet; and when the Master in the high- 
priest's hall turned and looked upon the disciple that 



TRUE CONVERSION. 



denied him, " Peter went out and wept bitterly," and 
tradition says he never afterward heard a cock crow with- 
out a renewal of his tears. 

And let us remember how all Israel wept at Mizpah, 
fasting, confessing their sins, putting away Baal and Ash- 
taroth, turning unto the Lord with all their heart, and 
pouring out water before him, symbolical of the pouring- 
out of their sins, their confessions, and their penitential 
prayers. Observe, it was not the pouring-out of oil, which 
leaves the vessel foul ; nor of wine, which leaves its odor 
behind ; nor of coin or gems, which might easily be gath- 
ered up again ; but of water, which leaves neither stain 
nor smell, and cannot be recovered. So let us pour out 
our sins before God, with humble confessions, and fervent 
supplications, and penitential tears. Let us turn even 
unto him with all the heart ; lay our best faculties and 
affections at his feet ; cast ourselves, soul and body, a 
living sacrifice, upon his altar. Surely, the end is worth 
the endeavor ; and no effort should be deemed too ardu- 
ous, no agony too intense, no self-denial too painful, by 
which we may lay hold on eternal life. Hither, then, let 
us bring all the energies of a redeemed and immortal 
nature, and toil as the sailor does in the tempest, and 
strive as the soldier does in the battle, and struggle as the 
wrestler does in the arena, and apply ourselves to the 
great enterprise of the soul's salvation as the student does 
to his books, the merchant to his traffic, and every artisan 
to his calling, still looking for help to Him whose strength 
is made perfect in our weakness, and whose grace is suf- 
ficient for all human necessities. Then our labor shall 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



not be vain in the Lord, and this will prove to us the 
happiest Lent we ever saw, and the blessed Easter morn- 
ing will find us in full sympathy with the victorious Cap- 
tain of our salvation — " dead indeed unto sin, but alive 
unto God, through Jesus Christ our Lord." 

What is your Lenten programme ? How do you pur- 
pose spending this sacred season? In fasting, weeping, 
and mourning, for your sins? Surely, we all have need 
of such penitential discipline. " If we say we have no 
sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." 
Come to Gethsemane, and see the agony of Jesus ! 
Whose burden is it that crushes him to the earth, bleed- 
ing at every pore ? Whose bitter cup is it, from which 
his sinless humanity recoils, but from which he cannot 
be excused? It is yours and mine. He suffers, the just 
for the unjust, that he may bring us to God. In the 
depth of his woe we see the turpitude of our transgres- 
sions. He is wrestling with our fearful retribution, to 
turn away from our guilty heads the wrath and ruin we 
deserve. See ! the traitor comes, with a band of sol- 
diers ; they arrest him ; they drag him to judgment ; 
they scourge him to the cross. Let us Tollow, and see 
this great sight, at which the earth shudders, and the 
heavens array themselves with sackcloth. With this scene 
of unparalleled horror and anguish have we nothing to 
do? Is it Judas only, and Pilate, and Herod, and the 
high priest, and the false witnesses, and the bloodthirsty 
populace, and the cruel mercenary soldiers, who are 
chargeable with this fearful infliction? 



TRUE CONVERSION. 



" 'Tis I, alas ! have done the deed ! 
'Tis I his sacred flesh have torn ! 
My sins have caused thee, Lord, to bleed, 
Pointed the nail, and fixed the thorn ! " 

And shall we show any mercy to the sins which showed 
no mercy to the Sinless? Shall we spare the sins that 
would not spare the Saviour? Oh, let us search them 
out, and scourge them forth, and drive them back to hell ! 
And if they will not leave us, let us starve them with fast- 
ing, and drown them with weeping, and scorch them with 
fires of holiness ! Who can endure their vileness, tolerate 
their malignity, or harbor the fiends any longer in his 
heart ? 

But what say I ? These fiends are our own voluntary 
actions, our own indulged and cherished passions. It is 
our own evil nature we must deny, our own guilty habits 
we must discard, the devil enthroned within us we must 
hurl from his usurped dominion. Now for the struggle, 
now for the conflict, in the strength of the Lord of hosts ! 
Let the strong man armed tremble at the advent of the 
Stronger ! Courage, ye feeble and faint-hearted ! The 
Church, with her services and sacraments, comes to your 
aid like an army with banners. Seize your gracious 
opportunity, and He that hath loved you shall make you 
more than conquerors ! Who is ashamed to follow Christ, 
and fast while others feast? Who fears the charge of 
formalism, or dreads the stigma of superstition? Who 
cares for the judgment of the heartless slaves of sin and 
brainless dupes of Satan, whose god is the flesh, whose 
altar the table, whose worship self-indulgence, whose re- 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



ward the everlasting fire ? Has not the world's standard 
always been wrong, and have not God's elect always been 
a peculiar people ? Take upon you the yoke of Christ, 
and follow him bearing your cross. Seize every means 
and method of self-discipline. Life is fleeting, eternity 
is at hand, and you have an infinite work to do before 
you are ready to meet your Judge ! Hear once more the 
merciful summons, which after a little time shall never, be 
heard again, save in the bitter mockeries of memory that 
haunt the reprobate soul forever — " Turn ye even to 
me with all the heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, 
and with mourning ! " 



II. 

Second ©ag of 3Lent. 
BENEDICITE. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. 

O all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord. — Song of The Three 
Children, 

These, my friends, are the opening words of the Song 
of the Three Children, or of the Three Youths, which, 
at this season of the Church's year, it is customary for us 
to sing instead of the Te Deum. The three youths, or 
the three children as they are called in old English style, 
are the three who are spoken of in the Book of Daniel as 



BENEDICITE. 



Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, and in the Song itself 
as x\nanias, Azarias, and Misael. You are familiar with 
their story, — how they refused to be unfaithful to the one 
true God, refused to worship the gods of the King Nebu- 
chadnezzar, and to bow down to the golden image he 
had set up \ how, therefore, they were cast into the fiery 
furnace ; how they were wondrously preserved from death \ 
how they sang the song which is now called after them, 
as a thanksgiving song to the Lord who had delivered 
them from the fiery peril. 

Note, first of all, that they were thrown into the fiery 
furnace for a sublime act of disobedience to an earthly 
king. He had bidden them worship gods which they 
knew were but the created things of the great God of 
heaven. He had bidden them worship things which they 
knew were not to be bowed down to : they were but the 
works of the Lord. They refused, therefore, to bend the 
knee in worship either to the golden image, the work of 
men's hands, or to the created things in earth, or sky, or 
sea, which the Babylonian king bade them revere as gods. 
But while they so refused to worship the things which 
were but the works of the Lord, the very first thought 
which found utterance upon their lips, when they gave 
thanks to God for so marvellously delivering them from 
the torture and deadly peril of fire, was an acknowledg- 
ment that the things they were bidden to worship did in 
truth themselves utter a strain of joy, did themselves offer 
up a worship of praise to the Lord, — " O all ye works 
of the Lord, bless ye the Lord." 

It must be admitted that these words, and words of 



IO CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

like import abounding in the Psalms and other poetical 
writings of the Bible, are looked upon by many as diffi- 
cult words to make use of. The poetical form into which 
the thought is thrown is overlooked. In reading and in 
interpreting all poetry, the mind must be in a state recep- 
tive of exalted thoughts ; it must rise above prosaic liter- 
ality. Under the influence of an enkindled imagination, 
— and remember that imagination is the power of pictur- 
ing within us things invisible to the bodily eyes, — under 
the influence of an enkindled imagination, language takes 
a form different from that in which we give expression to 
our common needs, or to the statement of the results of 
our ordinary observation. The form taken is very fre- 
quently that of invocation of inanimate objects, invoca- 
tion of abstract ideas, invocation of departed heroes. 
For any one to suppose that the speaker entertains the 
thought that the rocks he calls upon can hear his voice, 
or do other than send back the echo of his spoken words ; 
or that truth when solemnly appealed to is thought of as 
listening with an attentive ear; or that every one who 
invokes the shade of a departed worthy, believes that 
the words will reach the dweller in spirit-land, — for any 
one thus to bring ordinary prosaic thoughts into juxta- 
position with the thoughts of a mind touched to its inmost 
depths and roused to noble longings, would be deemed 
to be linking the sublime to the ludicrous, to be giving a 
mock dignity to the mean by raising it to a level with the 
noble. 

Mistakes of this sort are often made by well-meaning 
objectors to the use of poetical language in our religious 



BENEDICITE. 1 1 



worship. Many there are who have their misgivings as 
to the use of the Bent fdi 'cite, — misgivings which arise 
from failing to look upon the glorious song as expressed 
in the language of religious poetry. To allay such mis- 
givings, it is as well that we who use the words — and 
who rejoice in them as we use them — should not shrink 
from declaring that in addressing the clouds, and the 
seas and floods, and the frost and cold, we do so without 
any consciousness that there is any listening spirit in the 
clouds, or in the waters, or in the frosty air, by whom our 
words are accepted as words of adoration and reverence ; 
but that we use them in the sense in which the Psalmist 
of old used many kindred expressions, — that we use 
them to express our overwhelming conviction, or to im- 
press more deeply upon our minds the thought, that the 
heavens declare the glory of the Lord, and the firma- 
ment shows forth his handiwork; that all things praise 
the Lord by fulfilling the purposes for which they were 
designed by him, and by revealing to us his wisdom and 
love. 

Another objection to language such as the Psalmist so 
often uses, and which is repeated so exultantly by the 
three youths in their song of praise, is based upon the 
idea of the natural yileness of all created things ; upon 
the idea that a withering curse was uttered by God over 
all his handiwork, and that no swelling chorus of praise 
can be upraised, or conceived of as being upraised, from 
that which in God's sight teems with corruption. Such 
an idea had its birth in the morbid imagination of ascetic 
men who fancied they read in the Bible confirmation of 



12 CHURCH READER EOR LENT. 

their own degraded estimate of the vileness of all mate- 
rial things. The idea still finds a home in the thoughts 
of men, more particularly of those who have an over- 
strained notion of the innate vileness of human nature, 
— a vileness so peculiar that they conceive of it as be- 
ing capable of being dispelled, not by any organic inward 
change resulting from the silent growing into union with 
the Divine Spirit, but by having ascribed to it a right- 
eousness to which it has ever been a stranger. The old 
devisers of the idea of the utter vileness of matter, and 
the modern exaggerators of the vileness of human nature, 
have both agreed in shutting their ears to the voice of 
praise proceeding from every thing that hath breath, and 
to the proclamation of the divine glory from all created 
things. Both have failed to read, in the story of the fall 
of man, the lesson that the only thing in the world which 
can destroy the beauty of God's works is sin ; that to 
the sin-dimmed eyes of men, the fairest garden is a 
wilderness ; that when sin is cherished in the heart, and 
practised in the life, the world which discloses only reve- 
lations of beauty and grandeur to pure and loving souls, 
has its glory veiled, and seems to have thrown across it 
the dark shadow of death. 

The great verity which all who are so reluctant to take 
upon their lips the words of the Benedicite are struggling 
to grasp, and of which they have such imperfect hold, is 
this : that the strain of joy and praise to the Lord of all, 
from his works, cannot be heard in hearts where sin has 
gained a complete mastery ; cannot be heard where there 
is no moral harmony in the life, where there are no 



BENEDICITE. 13 



thoughts already vibrating tunefully with the melody of 
a redeemed and thankful soul. 

In stating the errors into which it may seem to us that 
our brethren in past or present times have fallen, we 
should always endeavor to recognize how the errors them- 
selves are but imperfect presentations of truths. 

But the whole subject which this wonderful song brings 
before our consideration is one of deep mystery ; is one 
which we cannot fully fathom ; is one concerning which, 
we may ourselves easily err, and as to which we must be 
content to patiently wait for fuller light to dawn upon us. 
There is one utterance of the Apostle Paul, which, if we 
allow it to fasten itself upon our memory, — if we quietly 
ponder over it, and think of it in connection with that 
fuller revelation of knowledge which the hopes of immor- 
tality within us assure us will be granted to us in the 
spiritual home which this our earthly home is a prepara- 
tion for, — may yield us some insight into the mystery 
which in all its fulness surpasses our understanding. The 
words are these : " The invisible things of God from the 
creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by 
the things that are made." So that, when we look upon 
the outward world, we are really beholding what God has 
designed to be for us a representation of the inner world 
of spirit. He has constituted the visible to be to us the 
silent teacher of the invisible, to declare to us his divine 
glory. The things we see are so designed as to prepare 
the human heart for the contemplation of the things un- 
seen, to which they in mystic manner correspond. There 
is not a created thing on earth which has not its arche- 



14 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

type in the heavens. Nothing we see in valley or on 
mountain, in the blue vault above, among the moving 
clouds, in storm or in sunshine, or on the great and wide 
sea, but has its divine pattern in the heavenly mount. 
The whole round world is all aglow with the teaching 
impressed upon it by the word of the Lord. A con- 
secration rests upon it. The human spirit, reverently 
beholding the works of the Lord, sees in them all a sac- 
ramental token of a Divine Presence within them and 
around them. The very grass which withereth, the very 
flower which fadeth, have, in their fleeting existence, an 
outflow from, and a revelation of, the word of the Lord 
which endureth forever. And so to us the natural world 
around us has a ministerial mission. All things fulfil the 
Lord's word. All are servants of .his, which do his 
pleasure. He himself in his own divine teaching, as he 
lived on earth, used them as such. The grass of the 
field, the birds of the air, the signs of the sky, — to all 
these he referred to illustrate the laws of the kingdom 
of heaven. In this morning's second lesson, we listened 
to him as he drew lessons regarding the growth of the 
human soul in divine love and wisdom, from the myste- 
rious growth of seed scattered over the ground by the 
sower who went forth to do his work. All true knowl- 
edge is of slow and silent growth. The eye of man 
cannot estimate the advances made by any lowly soul 
striving to do the Lord's will, and opening itself to the 
Lord's teaching, any more than the most watchful eye 
can discern the slow changes which are undergone before 
the unquickened seed becomes the ripened corn; but, 



BENEDICITE. 15 



just as all such changes are patiently watched over by the 
unwearied eye of the Lord, so does he also patiently 
guide the human soul in its upgrowth in knowledge of 
things divine, in its ripening towards that full fruition 
which is accomplished only in the unseen world. 

As we ourselves most worthily praise the Lord by doing 
his will, and by opening our hearts to his loving inspira- 
tion, so we can understand how the devout servants of 
the Lord in days that are past, recognizing that his will 
was done by all created things, spoke of those things 
as offering up perpetual praise to their great Creator. 
They praised him by doing his will, by obeying his laws, 
by fulfilling the end for which they were created. Rever- 
ent souls even in Pagan times discerned the same mystic 
truth, which they embodied in an expression which has 
been handed down to us, — the music of the spheres ; 
the music of an unceasing obedience to divine law ; the 
harmony of working together for good. 

But, if we are to be fully conscious of this heavenly 
harmony among the works of the Lord, there must be 
harmony within ourselves. We ourselves must be living 
in obedience to the will of the Lord, to his holy law. 
The law of self must not reign within us. Our whole life 
must be consecrated to God. 

Oh, let us ever seek God's aid to enable us to live in 
accordance with his will ! Let us see even in the mystery 
which environs his works, — those works whose laws we 
so dimly comprehend, — an assurance of the immortality 
that awaits us. We cannot here uplift the veil of mystery 
which surrounds the works of the Lord ; we can at best 



1 6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

but listen to their chorus of praise : but one of the joys 
of the future life will be, we may be very sure, to enter 
more fully into that knowledge which is only partially 
revealed to us here, — the knowledge of the mystery of 
the world, which is but part and parcel of the knowledge 
of God. Oh, let us ever strive to grow in divine knowl- 
edge here, so as to make ourselves sure of growth 
yonder, and of a union with the Divine which shall know 
no ending ! 



III. 

aCfjtrt Bag of lUnt. 
EFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. 

' REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

Godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of. — 
i Cor. vi. 10. 

The genuine penitent is he who renounces all his sins, 
and would rather die than repeat them. And though all 
real penitence has not the same degree of intensity nor 
the same mode of expression, which must vary with nat- 
ural temperament and circumstances, yet is it not godly 
sorrow, unless it involve such a sense of guilt, and such a 
horror and hatred of sin, and such a desire to escape 
from it into the condition of a better life, as shall work 
up the spirit of a man to such a pitch of solicitude and 



EFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. 17 

trouble as perchance may never have been occasioned by 
any personal affliction, or any domestic bereavement, or 
any crisis in his earthly fortunes. And these feelings, if 
not expressed in sighs, and groans, and tears, and loud 
complaints, and bitter lamentations, will express them- 
selves in watchings and strivings against the hated evil, 
in humble confession of guilt and ingenuous self-accusa- 
tion, in earnest supplication for God's merciful forgive- 
ness of all past offences, and grace henceforth to lead a 
godly, righteous, and sober life to the glory of his holy 
name. For godly sorrow is rational and practical sorrow ; 
and however intense our grief and however boisterous its 
expression, if it bring not forth these fruits, it is far from 
being that " godly sorrow " which "worketh repentance to 
salvation not to be repented of." 

Be it observed, then, that sorrow itself, even godly sor- 
row, while it worketh repentance, does not constitute re- 
pentance. Repentance is the whole volume of duty, of 
which godly sorrow is only the titlepage or the preface. 
Godly sorrow is the parent ; repentance is the product. 
And what is that repentance of which the apostle speaks, 
but an effectual turning from sin to righteousness, an en- 
tire reconstruction of life and character, a putting-off of 
the old man, and a putting-on of the new ; not the electric 
flash which vanishes in the very moment of its manifesta- 
tion, but the morning "light which shineth more and 
more unto the perfect day; " not the fluctuating mock- 
fire that dances at midnight over the marsh, but the 
steady flame that burns continually upon the altar before 
the Lord? 



1 8 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

Let no one imagine that the humiliation of an Ash 
Wednesday, the self-crucifixion of a Good Friday, the 
penitential discipline of a whole Lenten season, will suf- 
fice for the salvation of the soul, unless they are followed 
up by works meet for repentance, constituting the habit 
of a new life, and wrought into the very texture of a new 
character. And what a fatal mistake is it, to suppose that 
the brief compunctions of the death-bed will obliterate 
the consciousness of guilt, and prepare the sinful soul to 
stand before its Maker ! that the confessions and suppli- 
cations of the last few hours of an ungodly life will atone 
for the manifold delinquencies of all the past, and avert 
the just vengeance of Heaven from the everlasting future ! 
Often, alas 1 the tears of the dying are, like those of Esau, 
but a fruitless shower ; yea, the very rain of Sodom, the 
kindling of an unquenchable fire, the beginning of an 
endless and -immitigable woe. Ahab sorrowed, but did 
not repent ; and Judas repented, but not to salvation. If 
mere sorrow were -repentance, then were there hope even 
in hell ; and if all repentance were to salvation, then were 
there mercy for the Devil and his angels. 

Oh ! let us pray. God to work in us by his Holy Spirit 
such a sorrow as shall quench the flames of our lust, and 
dissolve the hills of our pride, and extinguish our thirst of 
covetousness, and effectually turn the drift of our nature 
toward righteousness and true holiness. For, as St. Au- 
gustine says, " though we may not be worthy so much as 
to lift up our eyes toward heaven, yet are we worthy to 
weep ourselves blind for our wickedness." But we must 
ot imagine that our sorrow for sin is to be estimated by 



EFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. 19 

the abundance of our tears, or the frequency of our 
prayers, or the continuance of our fasting, or any other 
form of self-mortification ; but by our active hatred of 
sin, our entire renunciation of all evil practices, and the 
strenuous warfare we constantly wage against every temp- 
tation to their repetition. " Godly sorrow" produces 
" repentance toward God ; " and repentance toward God 
is the only " repentance to salvation not to be repented 
of." 

The sorrow is not the repentance, but the fountain 
whence the repentance flows. And the first stream from 
this fountain, the first act of true repentance, is an ingen- 
uous confession of sin. " He that covereth his sins shall 
not prosper ; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them 
shall find mercy." But let not our confession be like the 
unlading of a ship to take in a new cargo. Let not the 
dog return to his own vomit again ; and the sow that was 
washed, to her wallowing in the mire. Let us not come 
hither day by day to weary the ear of our God with the 
acknowledgment of iniquities which we never renounce, 
and afflict our souls with fasting merely to comply with a 
venerable custom of the Church, and try to dress ourselves 
up in a formal habit of piety against the approaching 
Easter festival ; nor imagine for a moment that by such 
heartless penitence we can ease a burdened conscience, 
or through such hollow observances obtain forgiveness 
of our sins. It is the confessing and forsaking that in- 
sure the mercy, and no confession will avail without the 
forsaking. The confession of sin which is not followed 



20 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

by amendment of life, is like the bleating of the calves 
and the lowing of the oxen that Saul reserved from the 
spoil, enabling God out of our own mouth to condemn 
our imperfect services. If our humiliation before the 
Lord lead not to the abandonment of all our wicked ways, 
and the extirpation of his enemies within us, there is still 
no repentance to salvation. Achan must be brought to 
judgment ; the troubler of Israel must be stoned to death 
before the congregation. If we regard iniquity in our 
hearts, the Lord will not hear us. If we spare Agag, our 
penitence is no better than Ahab's. If we put not away 
the abominable thing which the Lord hateth, though we 
fast ourselves into skeletons and weep ourselves into 
water, we are no nearer our salvation than Esau was to the 
recovery of his bartered birthright and forfeited blessing, 
when he found no place of repentance, though he sought 
it carefully with tears. 

There is a sorrow for sin — have we not all seen it ? 
which produces no reformation. So far as it goes, it may 
be quite sincere : but it is not earnest enough to be 
practical. Purposes are formed, and promises are made, 
which are effaced from the mind by the first temptation, 
as the track of the sea-fowl on the strand is obliterated 
by the first wave of the returning tide. Resolutions are 
formally taken and solemnly announced, and covenants 
with Jehovah are entered into in the presence of all his 
people, which the cares or the pleasures of the world 
sweep away as quickly as the breeze sweeps the gossamer 
from the branch. The seed fell upon the rock, or among 
the thorns, or by the desert wayside, and so brought forth 



EFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. 21 

no fruit to perfection. These spasms of piety, even if a 
man should die in one of them, have no power to save. 
Of the repentance described by the apostle, they contain 
not so much as the first genuine element. No real re- 
pentance can there be, unless the purpose becomes an 
action, and the action grows into a habit, and the habit 
ripens into religious character. 

And how discouraging is all this to the hope of a death- 
bed repentance ! For against what does the dying sinner 
resolve, but the sins he can never more commit ? and what 
avails the resolution he has no longer power to put in 
practice? Can all his tears now obliterate the bitter 
memory of a long career of crime and folly? Can all 
his struggles break the chains in which he has been bind- 
ing himself for so many years? Can he undo in a day or 
an hour all that he has been doing ever since he left his 
cradle? Can he so suddenly awake from his sleep of 
death, and cast away the works of darkness, and put on 
all the armor of righteousness, and crucify the flesh with 
its affections and lusts, and effectually abolish the whole 
body of sin ? Yet this is what he has to do, and nothing 
less than this is complete repentance. Let him weep as 
wept the wretched Esau, as wept all Israel in Bochim, as 
wept the fugitive king in the ascent of Olivet, as wept the 
broken-hearted disciple for the denial of his Lord ; but 
what avail his tears against the catalogue of his crimes 
which conscience now holds up before him ? The offering 
of a contrite heart, even in the mortal hour, God will no 
doubt accept ; and we would not limit the exercise of His 
mercy, who assured the expiring thief of paradise, and 



2 2 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

died himself to open paradise to every penitent sinner. 
But where there is no possibility of a practical test, the 
character of the repentance must be extremely doubtful ; 
and he who has lived in impenitence may well die in 
despair. 

Fifty years' experience in frequent dealing with the 
consciences of dying sinners has made me distrustful of 
death-bed repentances ; and of the many I have witnessed, 
few were more satisfactory than that of a wretched woman 
who sent for me to come and pray with her in her last 
moments ; and when I asked her whether she intended 
to forsake her sins and lead a better life, she answered — 
" If I die, I do ; if I recover, I do not." O my friends, 
hang not your heavenly crowns upon such cobwebs ! De- 
lay your repentance no longer; the hazard is infinite. 
Repent, for the work will soon be impossible, and your 
condition hopeless. Repent, for a life of persistent sin 
must issue in unavailing and everlasting sorrow. Repent, 
and show the reality of your repentance, by consecrating 
yourselves, soul and body, to Him who redeemed you by 
the blood of his cross. During this solemn penitential 
season, when Heaven is calling upon you so loudly, and 
the Church in sackcloth and ashes waits to welcome you 
within the bond of the holy covenant, come and join her 
children in the exercise of a "godly sorrow" which 
"worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of." 



THE HAUNTING SPECTRE, 23 

IV. 

jfaurtfi Sag of £ent 
THE HAUNTING SPECTRE. 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 
11 Be sure your sin will find you out." — Num. xxxii. 23. 

A great poet describes the last hours of a certain 
wicked king, on the night before. he went out to his last 
battle. He pictures him as being haunted by the spectres 
of those whom he had wronged or slain ; and each accus- 
ing spirit says, " Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow ! 
despair, and die ! " 

Every unforgiven sinner leads a haunted life. There 
are times for the most reckless when the memory of his 
sin " sits heavy on his soul," and comes to him as an 
accusing spectre, saying, " Remember me." You know 
what shuts us out from God, — sin. When we deliber- 
ately commit a sin, knowing it to be wrong, then that sin 
comes between us and God like a curtain, and shuts us 
out from him. We cannot come to God, God will not 
come to us. There is, as it were, a great gulf fixed ; 
there is that unrepented — and therefore unforgiven — sin, 
between us and God, and our very prayers are hindered. 
It may be an old sin, something done or said long ago, 
and forgotten by you. But, if not repented of, that sin 
remains, and it will be a haunting spectre in your life, 



24 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

and will find you out one day, so that you will be forced 
to cry, "Hast thou found me, O mine enemy ?". 

It may be a sin of long ago, or a sin of yesterday ; 
but so long as it remains unrepented of, it remains unfor- 
given, remains to haunt you. It will stand at your bed- 
side, and, as it were, whisper to you, " Remember me ! " 
The drunkard who fancies he is leading a gay life, drown- 
ing all sorrow in his cups, has his haunting spectre. It 
will come to him, and say, " Remember me ! Remem- 
ber what you were, and what you are. Remember your 
wasted life, your ruined health, your lost character, your 
mournful family." The impure man or woman has a 
haunting spectre. They may try to think lightly of their 
lost purity, and their tarnished name ; but the day comes 
when the sin finds them out, when the spectre stands 
before them. It says, " I am the ghost of your old sin. 
Remember me ! " The dishonest man has his haunting 
spectre. The secret act of fraud so cleverly executed, 
never discovered, that comes back, and haunts the man, 
stands between him and peace, blights his life, and im- 
bitters his pleasure. 

My brethren, is there no such haunting spectre in your 
lives? is there no old sin which you thought dead and 
buried, which comes back to you, and darkens your way 
of life ? Look back even while I speak, O young men, 
and young women : is there no sin which you have never 
told to your mother, no, not even to your God, and 
which still remains to haunt } ou ? Remember, if that sin 
is not repented of, it will haunt you to the grave; yes, 
and beyond the grave ; it will haunt you on the day of 



THE HAUNTING SPECTRE. 25 

judgment ; it will stand between you and God, between 
you and pardon. "Be sure your sin will find you out." 
A wise man of old time (Seneca) says, "Let wickedness 
escape the law as it may, it never fails to do itself justice,, 
for every guilty person is his own hangman." My breth- 
ren, if you would have your life free from the haunting 
spectre, if you would get rid of the hateful presence of a 
sin, if you would be free men, no longer dragging a chain 
about with you like slaves, I say to you, repent you truly 
of your sins : since, as sin shuts us out from God, true 
repentance brings us back to God through the merits and 
mediation of Jesus Christ. What, then, do I mean by true 
repentance? Do I mean the fact of feeling sorry for our 
sin? No : sorrow for sin need not be repentance: The 
drunkard is sorry with a selfish sorrow for the effects of 
his intemperance. The criminal is sorry for the folly and 
crime which have brought punishment. The woman 
who has lost her virtue is sorry that she has forfeited 
what cannot be regained. But in all these cases it is not 
godly sorrow, it is not sorrow for having sinned against 
God. True repentance has three parts, three distinct 
steps. Firsts there must be conviction of sin, accom- 
panied by sorrow for sin. When once we see our sin, 
and find out how vile and ugly a thing it is, sorrow will 
follow as a natural consequence. Secondly, there must 
be confession of sin to God, — confession not merely of 
sins generally, but of the special sin or sins of which we 
desire to repent. Thirdly, there must be a- definite reso- 
lution of amendment, — a determination to try, by God's 
help, to do better for the future. These three -parts -make 



26 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

up true repentance. To stop short at being sorry, to stop 
short at knowing that we have sinned, to stop short at 
making a vague resolution to do better, is not to repent. 

Next, why should we repent? What should the motive 
be which leads us back to God? Should it be the fear 
of punishment ; the knowledge that the wages of sin is 
death, and that unrepented — and therefore unforgiven 
— sin shuts us out of heaven ? No : this might drive the 
coward to confess his fault, but something higher and 
purer should lead the child of God back to his Father ; 
and this higher and purer influence is love. It is love for 
God, not fear of his wrath, which should make us penitent. 
If your child loves you, it will come to you, and acknowl- 
edge its error, not because it fears your punishment, but 
because it is grieved at having wounded you. So, if we 
are children of God, our love for him will cause us to feel 
bitter sorrow when we have w r ounded him by our sin. It 
was love for his father, not misery, or fear of the future, 
which brought back the prodigal son. It is the shadow 
of the cross falling on the heart of a sinner, not the 
gleam of the avenging sword, which leads him home in 
penitence. Some time ago a young girl left her mother's 
home, and fell into evil ways. I need not enlarge on 
the old, sad story. Her mother sought her diligently, 
but could only discover that she was leading a wicked 
life in a certain great city. After trying every plan to 
find her, the mother hit on the expedient of placing her 
own picture in the principal midnight refuge where these 
women were accustomed to assemble. For a long time 
the mother's picture hung on the wall, unseen by the 



THE HAUNTING SPECTRE. 27 

eyes for which it was intended. Some passed it by with 
a sneer, — not many, I think ; some looked on it sadly, 
as they thought of their own mother and their lost home. 
One night the girl was there, and saw her mother's pic- 
ture. She saw her gentle eyes looking down so pleading- 
ly, as though they said, " Come home to me ; " and, like 
the prodigal, she came to herself, and determined to go 
home. She found her way back to her cottage home ; and 
as she tremblingly tried the door, it yielded to her touch, 
and she was in her mother's arms. When, later, she 
asked her mother how she found an entrance so easily, 
the mother answered, " I knew you would come back to 
me, and I left the door on the latch." O dear brethren ! 
have we not a better picture even than a mother's, dear 
and blessed though that be? We have the picture of 
Jesus Christ on the cross ; his sad eyes look pleadingly 
on us, and seem to say, "Come back to me. Return, O 
wanderer, to thy home ! " And if we do return, shall we 
not find the door of mercy open? Yes, for that door is 
like the gates of heaven, of which we read "that the 
gates thereof shall not be shut by day ; for there shall 
be no night there." 



28 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

V. 

JFtrst Suntmg in 3Unt. 
TEMPTATION. 

REV. H. j. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 

" Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness, to be tempted 
of the devil." — Matt. iv. i. 

No subject comes home more closely to us than that 
of temptation. We all know, to our cost, its subtle influ- 
ence, its mystic power ; so that, if there be one prayer 
more than another which should be ever on our lips, it 
should be, " Lead us not into temptation." Let us try to- 
day to analyze briefly the subject of temptation in refer- 
ence to the trial of our Lord, and the trial of ourselves. 
Jesus was led into the wilderness of the Spirit. Here we 
learn that God is our Leader into all things which are 
good for our souls, and that even temptation may be good 
for us. Jesus went into a desert to make expiation for the 
sins which are committed in society, — to endure fasting 
for men's luxury, to suffer want for men's extravagance. 
He went into the wilderness immediately after his bap- 
tism ; teaching us thereby that those who are baptized 
should die from sin, and rise again unto righteousness, 
continually mortifying their evil and corrupt affections, 
and daily proceeding in all virtue and godliness of living. 
Jesus entered into the wilderness to fast and pray ; and 



TEMPTATION. 29 



from that we learn that it is absolutely necessary for us all 
sometimes to stand aside from the busy crowd, and to 
seek quiet and retirement for prayer and self-examination, 
without which our spiritual life must grow feebler and 
fainter till it dies. 

Next, we have to ask reverently, Why does God permit 
us to be tempted ? Now, the word temptation has three 
meanings in the Bible. First, it means a trial of our faith, 
to bring out some hidden virtue ; and so Abraham was 
tempted of God. Secondly, it means a provoking to 
anger ; and thus we tempt God, as it is written, " Your 
fathers tempted me, proved me, and saw my works." 
Thirdly, temptation means a leading into sin ; and thus 
we are tempted of the Devil. God tries us for our good 
in order to strengthen our faith, or to bring forth some 
quality which is dormant in us. The unused limb be- 
comes weak and tender ; the neglected instrument of 
music grows out of tune ; the untouched weapon loses 
its keen edge : so many a man knows nothing of self- 
denial till God has tried him by a great sorrow. The 
faith of Abraham was brought out by the temptation to 
offer up his son. The patience of Job was manifested 
when he had been tried by the loss of all things. As the 
aromatic leaf smells most sweetly when bruised \ as the 
precious gem sparkles most highly when cut and polished ; 
as the purest silver is refined seven times in the fire : so 
we are made perfect through sufferings. Again, God 
suffers us to be tempted, that we may be watchful. We 
must prove our armor in the battle ; we must find out 
our weakness ; and thus St. Peter bids us, " Be sober, be 



30 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

vigilant, because your adversary the devil, as a roaring 
lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour." And 
again, God suffers us to be tempted that he may one day 
give us our reward ; since " blessed is the man that endur- 
eth temptation, for when he is tried he shall receive the 
crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to those who 
love him." 

But we .have to think of a yet greater mystery : Why 
did God the Father allow his Son to be tempted? Jesus 
was tempted, we may believe, because, in taking our na- 
ture upon him, it was necessary for him to be made like 
unto us in all things, sin only excepted. Since he be- 
came our Brother, bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, 
he was tempted even as we all are tempted. By being 
tempted of the Devil, Jesus proved the full force of the 
trials to which we are subjected ; and thus, fully knowing 
our temptations, he can sympathize to the uttermost with 
those .who are tempted. And Jesus was tempted to show 
us. how to meet temptation, — by watching, by fasting, by 
prayer.; not giving place to the Devil for a moment; 
meeting every temptation with a weapon from God's 
word. And, above all, Jesus was tempted in order that, 
by defeating the attacks of Satan, he might break the 
force of temptation for us, as a billow breaks against a 
rocky shore.; so that, when the great wave of temptation 
rolls towards us, it need not go over our soul, but, strik- 
ing against the Rock of Ages, its force is broken. 

Jesus fasted forty days and forty nights. The number 
forty seems to have had a special mystical meaning. 
These forty days of Lent are ordained that the faithful 



TEMPTATION. 31 



may show forth to the Church and the world the tempta- 
tion and fasting of Jesus, just as they commemorate his 
birth at Christmas, his death on Good Friday, and his 
resurrection at Easter. But Lent means more than this. 
It is a special time of discipline and trial, when we should 
go into spiritual training for the race which is set before 
us ; when, by self-denial (the great want of so many of 
us), by abstinence, by watchfulness and prayer, we may 
subdue the flesh to the spirit, and fit ourselves for the 
life-long temptations in the wilderness of this world. I 
ask you, my brethren, to make this Lent a reality, a help 
to your spiritual life. Give tip something for Christ's sake : 
nothing does our souls so much good as self-denial. Do 
not follow the sham religion which shuts up a theatre on 
Ash Wednesday, and allows it to be open all the rest of 
Lent. Do not follow the sham religion which provides a 
dainty meal of fish on Ash Wednesday, and calls it a 
fast ; but make Lent a real time of discipline, by giving up 
what you like best, or doing some duty which you like 
least. 

I think, if we realized the character and power of him 
who tempted Jesus in the wilderness, and who tempts us, 
we should use every special means, and every special 
hour, set apart for penitence and discipline. We have 
too vague notions as to the character of the Devil. We 
too often regard him as a power of evil, an essence, an 
influence ; instead of recognizing him as a person, a be- 
ing infinitely stronger, more cunning, more swift in move- 
ment and execution, than ourselves. We fail to see that 
Satan's whole time and energy are occupied in planning 



32 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

our destruction by means of countless agencies, whose 
work is to shut us out of that heaven where they were 
once admitted. With such a being for a foe, we dare not 
neglect any means of grace, any spiritual training, any 
medicine of the soul, however bitter. No new art or 
amusement is discovered, no change in our fortunes takes 
place, but Satan tries to extract from it some new poison, 
some fresh temptation. The temptations of our Saviour 
were entirely from without, since in him is no sin : our 
temptations are both from within and without. They 
come from the promptings of our nature, from peculiari- 
ties of our temperament, constitution, and health \ from 
the character of our work, or our associates. 

There is no place nor time free from the dangers of 
temptation. Jesus was tempted when engaged in prayer 
and fasting ; so in the house of God, at the very altar 
itself, we may meet the tempter. No door locks out our 
thoughts, and no exile can escape from himself. Those 
whose work is the highest and the noblest are often the 
most sorely tried ; against such, Satan uses his keenest 
weapons, his most subtle temptations. 

Moreover, he suits his attack to the person and the 
opportunity. It was when Jesus was faint with fasting, 
that Satan appealed to his natural appetite. It was when 
David had changed the hardness of warfare for the luxury 
of an idle palace, that the Devil showed him his neigh- 
bor's wife. It was when Ahab wandered discontented 
through his dominions, that Satan told him how conven- 
ient was the vineyard of the Jezreelite. The Devil knows 
what we do not know, — all our weak points. Think not 



LENT IN NINEVEH. 33 

that he who spared not the Son of God will spare you. 
But rather use the opportunities given to you, and look 
into your hearts, consider your ways, find out when and 
how you are most easily tempted : then fly to Jesus who 
was tempted ; fly to prayer, to the armory of God's Word, 
to the blessed sacrament of love. And so shall we feeble 
folk be more than conquerors, through Him who for our 
sakes was tempted, and for our sakes triumphed over 
temptation. 



VI. 

JFiftfj Bag of Unit. 
LENT IN NINEVEH. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 
Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown. — Jon. iii. 4. 

Eight centuries before the Incarnation, the proud 
Assyrian capital was at the acme of its glory. Nearly 
twice as large as London, it was sixty miles in circumfer- 
ence, with a population probably of two million and a 
half. Greek and Roman writers agree in representing it 
as one of the most splendid and powerful cities the world 
ever saw, while the Hebrew prophets uniformly denounce 
it as- unsurpassed in profligacy and impiety. At length 
the cry of violence and blasphemy comes up before the 
Lord, and he determines to punish. Long-suffering and 



34 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

plenteous in mercy, however, he will not smite without 
ample warning. Another probation he will give the guilty 
populace, and see if they will not repent when the peal 
of approaching doom rings in their ears. His servant 
Jonah, a prophet of Gath-hepher in the land of Zebulon, 
is sent to tell them that in forty days the city shall be 
destroyed. 

No ordinary event is it the prophet predicts, — no 
gradual decay, nor slow work of famine, nor swift wing of 
pestilence, nor cruelly devouring sword ; but some sud- 
den and overwhelming calamity, which shall leave no 
room for doubt of the divine agency in its infliction — an 
earthquake perhaps, an inundation from the Tigris, or a 
tempest of fire and brimstone from heaven. He who can 
endue with omnipotence a drop of malignant dew, a 
breath of empoisoned air, or the fang of a microscopic 
worm, cannot want means to destroy a people, subvert 
an empire, or desolate a world. Nineveh is to be over- 
thrown, but there is no specification of the manner or 
the instrument, and these are unknown alike to the 
preacher and his hearers. In vain they listen for some 
overture of mercy; the message is only a message of 
woe, and the very mysteriousness of the terms gives addi- 
tional terror to the warning. 

None but the infinite God can see the end from the 
beginning, and fix the date of future judgments. Mer- 
cifully he reveals the purposes of his sovereign justice, 
and calls upon the wicked to behold his uplifted hand, 
and avoid or avert the threatened stroke. It is tender 



LENT IN MNEVEH. 35 

pity proclaiming almighty anger, that sinners may repent 
and be saved. Were it four days instead of forty, dismay 
would paralyze the people, and render them incapable of 
rational repentance. But Jehovah, unwilling that they 
should perish, grants them this gracious respite. His 
thunder premonishes them of the coming storm, that 
they may flee to a place of safety. If they repent of 
their wickedness, he will repent of his threatening ; if 
not, he must punish. Forty days is a long time for a 
righteous God to wait, but a short time for a guilty peo- 
ple to pray. Yet who knows what mighty results may 
depend upon a moment? 

This is the first mission to the heathen, of which we 
have any record ; and the first missionary is a Hebrew 
prophet, preaching nothing but wrath and ruin. Jonah 
enters the city, and lifts up his voice like a trumpet : 
" Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown." A 
crowd gathers about him, demanding an explanation of 
the announcement. He repeats the dread denunciation, 
and hastens on. Every conscience responds to the sen- 
tence. Petrified as by a supernatural awe, they stand 
gazing after the retiring stranger. Through the thronged 
and glittering street he pursues his way, ever and anon 
shouting : " Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be over- 
thrown." The passer-by pauses, turns and looks, but the 
terrible prophet is gone. In a few moments, the same 
dread voice is heard reverberating along some distant 
avenue. Now the preacher of doom thunders in the 
market-place, or shouts from the broad ramparts of the 
city ; then the hoarse woe, like the trump of vengeance, 



36 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

descends from the battlements of a lofty tower, or rings 
through stately colonnade and richly frescoed hall : " Vet 
forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.' ' 

It is night. The hum of business has gone silent. 
The throngs have left the thoroughfares. Only the 
watchman paces his solemn round. The city sleeps, but 
pleasure wakes in palaces. From a range of lofty win- 
dows flash a thousand lights. From the festive chamber 
rolls the voluptuous swell of music, accompanied with 
the sound of the light and measured footfall. Beneath 
the marble wall the prophet stands, and lifts the sepul- 
chral warning : " Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be 
overthrown." The dance pauses, the voice of the viol 
and the flute is hushed, strong hearts are trembling in 
dire dismay, fair young cheeks grow pale with deadly fear, 
and anxious eyes from the windows gaze out into the 
ominous night, while far away is heard once more the 
appalling cry: "Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be 
overthrown. " 

Such the preaching : What is the effect? "The people 
believed God" — not Jonah, but God. They lost sight 
of the messenger, in the terrible import of his message. 
They felt, they knew, that it was divine. Long ago they 
had heard something of the "Mighty One of Jacob," 
and his wonders in Egypt, and what he did at the Red 
Sea, and how he discomfited the host of Amalek, and 
threshed nations before his chosen, and gave them the 
heritage of the heathen. The dignified reserve and sol- 
emn earnestness of the preacher, his evident disinterested- 



LENT IN NINEVEH. 37 

ness and superiority to fear, the perfect confidence with 
which he announces the very day of the predicted catas- 
trophe, and the astonishing report of his own peculiar 
discipline preparatory to his present mission, all contrib- 
ute to their conviction ; while the consciences of his 
hearers, like the voice of God within them, corroborate 
the sentence, and assure them it is just. 

With pallid lips they hasten to report the matter to tne 
king. The king calls for the prophet, and hears the ter- 
rific tidings for himself. Trembling, he rises from his 
throne, and exchanges his royal attire for a robe of sack- 
cloth ; and from his seat in the ashes goes forth the 
authoritative order, summoning the many thousands of 
Assher to the penitential solemnity. It is a national fast, 
to avert a national judgment. The wickedness is uni- 
versal, the threatening is universal, and universal must be 
the humiliation. Such abasement for such a purpose, 
the brainless unbelief of to-day may openly ridicule ; yet 
this very means may often have averted ; the wrath of 
Heaven, and now perhaps preserves the very breath that 
blasphemes the mercy. 

But when and where was ever another humiliation like 
this, of a whole people before the Lord ? Beginning in 
the palace, it descends to the stall. Men, women and 
children, of all grades and conditions, take off their 
ornaments, and cover themselves with sackcloth, and sit 
in ashes ; and from day to day, they eat no pleasant food, 
nor scarcely moisten their lips with water. And the 
steed neighs over an empty manger, and the kine low 
in a thousand enclosures, and the sheep and goats go 



38 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

bleating along the avenues ; but all nourishment is de- 
nied them, that they may share the general grief, and 
augment it by their piteous mdans. 

And to fasting is added fervent prayer. The people 
are idolaters, but well they know that their idols cannot 
save them. Mightily they cry, both day and night, to the 
living God, whom they have so grievously offended ; im- 
ploring his mercy, that they may not perish in their sins. 
Prayer is the lightning-rod, that diverts from its aim the 
descending bolt of vengeance ; the hand that grasps the 
lifted sword, and suspends or turns aside the fatal stroke. 
Again and again, in the Arabian wilderness, the prayer of 
one man procured the pardon of all Israel ; shall not the 
united supplications of this great city obtain its reprieval 
from the sentence that has gone forth upon its people ? 

And, in proof of their sincerity, these sinners turn 
every one from his evil way. How many of them are 
thoroughly and finally reformed, can be known only from 
the disclosures of eternity ; but the mercy granted them 
by Him who searcheth the heart, proves the general re- 
pentance genuine. For it is amendment of life that 
evinces the sincerity of sorrow for sin, without which 
no formalities of penitence can save from punishment. 
Enough for us to know, that Nineveh was spared nearly 
a hundred years after Jonah had predicted her destruc- 
tion in forty days. During that forty days, she kept such 
a Lent as the world has seldom or never witnessed ; and 
her flowing tears quenched the wrath of Heaven. She 
turned from her wicked ways, and God turned from his 
terrible purpose. She cried for mercy, and he answered 



LENT IN NINEVEH, 39 

with pardon. Fearful was the judgment foretold, and 
marvellous the clemency of its revocation. Great is the 
mercy of God in only threatening, when he might justly 
punish ; greater, in withholding or averting the punish- 
ment threatened. 

Yet what encouragement had Nineveh to hope ? Mercy 
was no part of the prophet's message. It contained not 
so much as a constructive promise of pardon, by an ex- 
hortation to repentance and prayer. It was simply the 
proclamation of doom. But do the people despair? 
"Who can tell," say they, "if he will not repent, and 
turn from his fierce anger, that we perish not?" Yea, 
verily, who can tell? Jonah has said nothing about it, 
but is he not himself a miracle of mercy? Will not He 
who heard the voice of his disobedient servant from 
the depths of the sea, hear our united prayers from the 
depths of our sorrow? Why send us the message, if not 
inclined to mercy? Why warn us of the danger, if not 
desirous of our escape? Why delay the doom forty days, 
if not to afford us opportunity of repentance ? And have 
we not heard of his great forbearance, and frequent for- 
giveness, and marvellous deliverances, wrought for his 
chosen people ? Who can say that he will not spare us 
also, when he beholds us prostrate in sackcloth and ashes 
at his feet? Thus they reason; and with this dim and 
dubious hope, they cry mightily for mercy. 

But what a change is here ! A few hours ago, these 
weeping and wailing thousands were all immersed in busi- 
ness, in pleasure, and in crime ; courtiers planning their 
foul intrigues ; sycophants fawning at the feet of power ; 



40 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

merchants lying over their worthless wares ; blasphemers 
vying in the invention and utterance of new oaths ; bac- 
chanals revelling in shameful excess of lust and wine ; 
young men and maidens whirling in the mazes of the 
voluptuous dance ; the king and his nobles projecting a 
predatory campaign against some remote and unoffending 
people ; generals marshalling their troops, and soldiers 
girding on their armor; slaves storing the quiver and 
stringing the bow, burnishing the chariot and harnessing 
the steed ; robbery, and treachery, and cruelty, and sensu- 
ality, stalking blushless in the blaze of noon, or seeking 
security in the shades of night ; and innumerable manu- 
factured or imaginary divinities invoked as the patrons of 
every degrading passion, and lauded as the protectors 
of crimes which modern civilization has not yet learned 
to name. Now all is reversed. The king has discarded 
his embroidered mantle, and the nobles have laid aside 
their badges of honor, and fair ladies have taken off their 
jewelry, and the warrior has cast away his weapons, and 
the steed is turned loose from the chariot, and the hum 
of industry is unheard in the street, and trade wrangles 
no more in the mart, and the exchange is an echoless 
solitude, and the banquet-hall is silent as a cemetery, and 
boisterous mirth has given place to bitter mourning, and 
the sweet seductive strain has sunk into a wail, and the 
whole populace sit weeping in penitential sackcloth, and 
the inarticulate hunger-cries of beasts mingle with the 
prayers of the people, and the voice of the city ascends 
in one vast threnody to God, who graciously hears, and 
repents him of the threatened evil. 



LENT IN NINEVEH. 41 

What a lesson for us, my brethren, is contained in this 
fragment of ancient history ! And how seriously should 
we ponder our Saviour's reference to it in his solemn 
warning to the Jews ! " The men of Nineveh shall rise 
up in the judgment against this generation, and shall con- 
demn it ; for they repented at the preaching of Jonas, 
and behold ! a greater than Jonas is here." The words 
involve a general principle, applicable in all times and 
places. The guilt of impenitence is in proportion to the 
mercy rejected, and those who have been saved by infe- 
rior means will stand forth as witnesses against those who 
neglect the great salvation of the gospel. If the hearers 
of Jesus were more highly favored than those of Jonah, 
your divine call is fraught with still superior mercy \ and 
if you repent not under the ministry of grace thus granted 
you, both Jews and Assyrians will confront you with their 
fearful testimony before the throne of doom. But one 
brief warning had the Ninevites ; you have had a thou- 
sand. By one of his prophets God spake to them ; he 
hath spoken to you by his beloved Son. No miracle 
attended the prophet's ministry \ heaven and earth have 
attested our divine commission. He uttered no offer, no 
intimation, of mercy; we proclaim to you the infinite 
compassion of "a Saviour who is Christ the Lord." His 
hearers were all ignorant idolaters ; you know more of 
the living and true God, than all the heathen millions 
that ever lived and died. Yet the men of Nineveh re- 
pented at the preachmg of Jonah, monarch and menial 
prostrate in the dust, bewailing their wickedness, and 
imploring an unpromised pardon ; while you, many of 



42 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

you, alas ! remain impenitent under the most gracious 
proclamation of forgiveness ever made to the guilty. 
Therefore the men of Nineveh shall rise up and condemn 
you in the judgment. Christ hath spoken unto you, and 
ye have no cloak for your sin. How will you stand 
before the wrath of the Lamb? Better that you had 
lived and died in Nineveh twenty-six centuries ago, even 
though Jonah had never entered its gates, and Jehovah 
ihad never been named within its walls ! 



VII. 

Stitfj ©ag of 3Lent 
THE SLEEP OF S/JV. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. 
Now it is high: time to awake out of sleep. — Rom. xiii. 2. 

What is the sleep which the apostle tells us it is time 
to awake from? Alas, my friends, that the word " sleep " 
should have to be used in the sense we must here under- 
stand it ! Sleep, most welcome word ! Watch a child 
sleeping at night ; look at its innocent face telling of the 
indwelling innocent soul. Think of the sleep which is 
so grateful to us all when the toil of the day is ended ; 
the sleep which brings ease and unconsciousness to the 
sufferer on the bed of sickness ; the sleep which comes 
like a heaven-sent gift to weary and heavy-laden souls 



THE SLEEP OF SIN. 43 

whom sorrow and trials have laid low. Ponder for a 
moment upon the sleep which the good Lord giveth his 
beloved. Think of the loved ones you yourselves have 
known, whose eyes you have closed in death, who have 
fallen asleep in Jesus. You will then feel tempted to ask, 
Can there be any other sleep than the sleep of innocence, 
the sleep of the toil-worn, the sleep of the sufferer, the 
sleep of the sorrowful, the sleep of those who are resting 
forever from earthly labors? Ay, my friends, there is. 
It is the sleep of sin, the confused and restless sleep into 
which all who are willing slaves to sin have fallen. This 
is not a sleep whose ending brings with it light and life. 
It is a sleep which, if we are not roused from it, has no 
end but death. It is the sleep out of which the apostle 
bids us with warning cry to awake. It is the sleep of 
which the Psalmist cried, " Lighten mine eyes, O Lord 
my God, lest they sleep the sleep of death." It is in- 
deed the sleep of death, the sleep which overtakes the 
soul on its way to the dark valley of the shadow of spirit- 
ual death. It is ever high time to awake out of such 
sleep. 

The sleep of sin is the sleep of the conscience. Every 
healthful, wakeful soul is in such relation to the divine 
influences which surround us all, as to be able to hear 
that inner voice, — that utterance of our inner selves 
which is in accord with the divine will. But if the soul 
is in an unhealthy state, — if it is in a state of moral tor- 
por, — the inner voice is no longer heard. It is not that 
divine influences are withdrawn, but it is that the soul in 
its dormant state is unfit to respond to divine promptings. 



44 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

It has so wandered away from God, that it has ceased to 
be nourished with the thoughts and inspirations which 
build up the divine life within us. The inner eye has 
become dull of sight ; the inner ear has become dull of 
hearing. A deathful sleep has overpowered the whole 
soul. It is a wild, feverish sleep, in which the moral 
pulse throbs no longer in rhythmical accord with the 
melodious undertones which ever make themselves heard 
within the souls of all who earnestly press forward along 
the pathway of the redeemed, but beats in fitful response 
to the cravings of the depraved passions and of the 
perverted will. 

The sleep of sin is a sleep from which it is hard to be 
aroused. The soul is lost in its deathly slumber. The 
living Christian soul possesses a lively faith. Spiritual 
things are by the faithful soul discerned ; and this discern- 
ment is its life, its salvation. But the soul sunk in indif- 
ference, in frivolity, in wilful ignorance, in selfishness, is 
lifeless, is lost, because it is in utter unconsciousness of 
the things of the higher life. If we see a man who is 
never in any way moved — as some are even to tearful 
speechlessness — when hearing an exquisite melody, we 
say of him that he has no soul for music. If he is never 
awed by the grandeur of the mountains, if the trees of the 
Lord disclose to him in vain their wondrous beauty, if in 
the moving cloud or the restless sea he never sees any 
thing which induces him to lay aside the thoughts and 
cares of a lower life, we may say of him that he has no 
soul for the divine beauty of the natural world. And so, 
if a man move through this world with no thought of the 



THE SLEEP OF SIN. 45 

future world, with no faith in things not seen by the bodily 
eye, with no concern for the things hoped for by the 
Christian soul; with no enkindled spiritual imagination 
which enables him to realize that the Lord is a living 
God, that the unseen life is a real life, that the spiritual 
world is a real world in which all who pass away from this 
earth are still alive unto God, — then surely we may say 
of such a one that he has no soul for the things of eter- 
nity. We may say that his soul is lost in the slumber 
of death to all that concerns the higher life. Heaven 
exists in vain for such a one : his thoughts are never 
turned thitherward. The Lord of heaven is but a name, 
which, whenever it appears on the printed page, suggests 
not the divine and gracious form ever visible to the eye 
of faith. That the saints of heaven are our brethren with 
whom we may dwell in sweet communion, is a thought 
never realized. The life of such a one is so bound up 
with the things of time, that he is dead to the things of 
eternity. 

And this insensibility of the soul has many phases. 
There are many ways in which the soul may fall into 
deadly slumber. In one of its phases, it may be called 
the sleep of the mind, the torpor of the intellectual life. 
It is manifested by an avowed indifference to all high 
culture, by an expressed disbelief in any necessity for it • 
by a persistent resolve never to enter upon the region of 
lofty thought ; by an indifference and a careless contempt, 
which, one of our foremost writers has been bold enough 
to assert, are spreading through the bulk of our highest 
social class, amongst the high-born and amongst those 



46 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

whom their fathers' industry and enterprise have raised 
to positions of vast wealth, spreading through them and 
influencing their children. Even the great schools to 
which the sons of the wealthy resort are not free from 
this taint of neglect of the higher life of culture. For 
there — so the whisper is going round — boys are allowed 
to initiate themselves into billiards, and betting, and 
gambling, when they ought to be subject only to influ- 
ences which shall make them earnest workers in the world 
which lies beyond the school. And are there not in- 
stances known to us all, of men of high birth abandoning 
all fine culture to devote their energies to exciting sports, 
and wild gambling, and hurried to early graves by the 
ignoble enthusiasm which possessed them? 

The soul may also be sunk in the sleep of selfishness, 
— the selfishness which manifests itself on the one hand 
in indifference as to others' welfare, in the desire to use 
others simply to minister to selfish ends, in the disposi- 
tion to treat servants as human chattels : on the other 
hand, it may be manifested by men of lower rank in the 
social scale, possessed by a consuming desire to get on 
in the world, to get money, to get money if they can, 
above all things to get money, to gain advantages over 
their fellows, to rise to power, to add to their pleasures. 
But whether such selfishness manifests itself in men of 
high rank, or of low rank, the prevailing thought in the 
mind of one possessed by it is that his personal welfare 
and the success of his schemes are of infinitely more 
importance than any thing else in the world. 

The soul, too, may be lost in the sleep of vulgarity, 



THE SLEEP OF SIN. 47 

which is really selfishness in its coarsest form. This is an 
accomplishment which is not monopolized by any one 
social class. We see instances of it whenever we see a 
display of pride of birth and position ; whenever we 
see aristocratic skirts avoiding the mud of plebeianism ; 
whenever we see professional hands drawn back from 
contact with hands engaged in trade ; whenever we see 
any shrinking back from association with each other, of 
those who ought to be knit together in the bonds of 
Christian union. We see manifestations of that blight 
of the soul we call vulgarity, whenever we meet with 
those who take delight in saying what gives others pain, 
in being rude when it is just as easy to be civil, in crin- 
ging to superiors, in being insolent to inferiors in rank. 
I am afraid that we are scarcely conscious how death- 
ful this form of selfishness is, how that this vulgarity is 
but death mingled with our daily life. We are scarcely 
conscious how men of other countries, when they come 
amongst us, marvel at the roughness, the surliness, the 
gloomy silence, the absence of the smiling face, which 
they see in far too many with whom they come into con- 
tact. Oh ! let us cease to cherish this kind of selfishness 
which so excites the wonder of our fellow-Christians of 
other countries. Let us always remember our Saviour's 
golden rule. Let us, even in the small things of life, do 
unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us 
restrain the tongue which would speak words tending to 
give pain to others ; let us cultivate gentle courtesy ; let 
us meet our fellow-creatures with a genial smile ; let our 
demeanor be most courteous when we speak to those 



48 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

whose grade is lower than our own ; let us advance to 
our superiors with a frank and manly fearlessness, free 
from all corrupting servility. 

There is yet another sleep in which the soul may be 
lost, — the sleep of the bigot and the intolerant. Bigotry 
and intolerance are based upon ignorance. It is not 
always a reproach to be ignorant. It is natural, in a world 
in which men are trained under so many widely differing 
influences, that some should grow up thorough strangers 
to the set of ideas with which others have been familiar 
from the time they first began to think. We ought always 
to have a thoughtful consideration for those who have 
no opportunity for seeing things as we see them. But 
when ignorance becomes aggressive instead of modest, 
presumptuous instead of distrustful in itself, then it be- 
comes deathful in its character ; it becomes that which 
we call intolerance and bigotry, that which cannot exist 
alongside of the love of Christ, which when it enters the 
human heart constrains it to work no ill to fellow-men. 
Oh that none were enslaved to such deathful sleep ! Oh 
that all so enslaved to it would awake out of it into the 
nobler life of Christian charity ! Oh that in all our 
churches the ears of the uncharitable and intolerant 
could from time to time be made to tingle at the sound 
of the reproaches of those who would stir them up to 
enter upon a more brotherly attitude towards the whole 
Christian world ! 



REST NOT HERE. 49 

VIII. 

Sebcntfj Dag of 2Lent. 
REST NOT HERE. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

Arise ye, and depart ; for this is not your rest. — Mic. ii. 10. 

So speaks the inspired Morasthite " to all Samaria and 
Judah." With odious idolatries and abominable crimes, 
they have defiled their pleasant heritage ; and the land, 
as if conscious of its dishonor, and taking up the Lord's 
controversy with his faithless and apostate people, is ready 
to vomit them forth, as something nauseous and intol- 
erable. Severely has the prophet already reproved their 
sins, and plainly foretold their terrible judgment and long 
captivity ; and now he seems to see them driven away in 
chains by the cruel conqueror; and while they linger 
weeping around the gates of the temple, the tombs of 
their fathers, and the dear ashes of their ruined homes, 
he cries : " Arise ye, and depart ; for this is not your 
rest." Taking leave of Israel, however, we repeat the 
summons with a Christian application ; and may God, by 
his Holy Spirit, mercifully make it effectual to the disen- 
chantment of those who have chosen this delusive world 
as their rest ! 

" Arise ye, and depart." The voice of the prophet is 
the voice of God. His burden is a message from God 



5<3 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

to Israel. He receives the word from God's mouth, and 
gives the people warning from him. As the angels came 
to call Lot out of Sodom, so come we to call men out of 
the world. As the Lord called Abram from Ur and Israel 
from Egypt, so now he calls you by the gospel to lay 
hold on the hope that is set before you. In mercy he 
pleads with you, and demands — " Why will ye die ? " 
By the voice of his Church, by the ordinances of reli- 
gion, by every admonition of providence, while the living 
conscience within you perpetually repeats the call, he is 
summoning you to arise and depart. 

Simon Peter would have built tabernacles upon the 
mount of the transfiguration, and remained there forever. 
There was some excuse for him, for he was so bewildered 
by the vision of glory that "he wist not what to say." 
But what are we to think of men, in the full possession of 
their rational faculties, enamoured of this inferior scene ? 
How are we to account for the strange fascination that 
looks upon the vanities of earth and time as the only real 
and enduring good? How shall we apologize for that 
inordinate attachment to the deceitful possessions, unsub- 
stantial honors, shadowy and evanescent joys, of this poor 
fleeting life, which everywhere meets our observation ; 
while heaven opens its gates of pearl, and sends forth 
its angels, to welcome men to "a city of habitation," "a 
house not made with hands," " an inheritance undefiled 
that fadeth not away"? Why should the rational and 
immortal spirit be diverted from its proper destiny, dragged 
down from its heavenly throne, enslaved by the vanities 
of sense, and subjected to the degrading tyranny of sin? 



REST NOT HERE. 51 

Why should the noblest of God's creatures fall prostrate 
before a golden calf in the very presence of the divine 
glory, while the base desires of the flesh inthrall its lofty 
powers, and the fleeting shadows of time become the 
objects of its eager pursuit? Redeemed by the precious 
blood of Christ, and endowed with the joint-heirship of 
his everlasting kingdom, why should you cleave to the 
dust, as if this world were your permanent home, and 
these delusive joys your highest destiny? " Arise ye, and 
depart \ for this is not your rest." 

Ponder seriously, I pray you, the fact here stated by 
the prophet. Mistake not the way for the home, the 
course for the goal, the sea for the haven, the trial for 
the reward, the bivouac for the victor's banquet, the 
battle-field for the rest that remaineth to the people of 
God. "This is not your rest." 

How can you find rest in that which yields no satis- 
faction? Can material things satisfy a spiritual nature? 
Can perishable things satisfy an immortal creature ? Do 
the riches, honors and pleasures of this world ever satisfy 
the soul of man? After all, is there not "left an aching 
void the world can never fill"? Why are the world's 
votaries always disappointed and discontented? Because 
they are always drinking from an empty cup. All earthly 
enjoyments are 

"Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the taste, 
But turn to ashes on the lips." 

How can you find rest in that which affords no tran- 
quillity ? What is this life, but a constant warfare, a con- 



52 CHURCH READER -FOR LENT. 

test in the arena? What a race and scuffle do we see for 
riches ! what a competition for political preference and 
official distinction ! Many struggle hard for a mere sub- 
sistence, our very pleasures are purchased with pains and 
perils, and life with most of us is a perpetual agony. Not 
only one with another have we to contend, but also with 
the Devil and his angels, and with our own ungovernable 
passions. On such a battle-field, repose is impossible. 

How can you find rest in that which offers no security? 
Accident and danger betide all earthly possessions and 
enjoyments. " Man heapeth up riches, and cannot tell 
who shall gather them ; " and often they "make to them- 
selves wings, and fly away as an eagle toward heaven.' ' 
And worldly honors are frequently blasted by the very 
breath that gave them birth ; and all our social enjoy- 
ments depend upon a thousand contingencies ; and our 
sweetest domestic pleasures are tender flowers, cut off by 
untimely frosts ; and by a very uncertain tenure we hold 
the inestimable blessing of health ; and upon a thread of 
gossamer in the breeze life itself hangs trembling. 

How can you find rest in that which promises no per- 
manency? The world itself is unstable ; and the fashion 
thereof passeth away ; and its most precious things are 
evanescent as the dew, and fleeting as a summer cloud. 
Thrones are falling, empires are dissolving, and nations 
whirling in the mad vortex of revolution. " One gen- 
eration passeth, and another generation cometh." The 
proudest dynasties have gone down to the dust, the might- 
iest capitals are buried in their own ruins, and " the very 
tombs lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers." Like 



THE WATCHMAN'S WARNING, 53 

autumn leaves, your friends are falling around you. How 
many of your homes have been despoiled, how many of 
your hearts broken, by the ravages of death ! 

" Friend after friend departs ; 
Who hath not lost a friend ? 
There is no union here of hearts, 
That finds not here an end." 

And will you set up your tabernacle among the tombs, 
and make the charnel-house your palace, and hope for 
happiness in fellowship with worms ? Oh ! build not 
your house upon this shifting sand ! Store not up your 
treasure in this falling castle ! Commit not your eternal 
fortunes to these treacherous winds and waves ! Sleep 
not carelessly upon the crest of this rumbling and heav- 
ing volcano ! Remain not another night within the walls 
of the city over which the fire-storm is gathering ! " Arise 
ye, and depart; for this is not your rest." 



IX. 

3Efgl)t& Bag of 3Lntt. 
THE WATCHMAN'S WARNING. 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 

The watchman said, The morning cometh, and also the night. — Isa. 
xxi. 12. 

From his lofty watch-tower the prophet gazes over the 
land, and sees that its wickedness is great. He had 



54 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

stood continually on the watch-tower in the daytime, and 
was set in his watch whole nights. With prophetic eye 
he looked far off into the future ; and the people asked 
mockingly, " Watchman, what of the night?" And he 
told them that "the morning cometh, and also the night." 
The morning of brightness cometh, when the dayspring 
from on high should appear, and the true light should 
lighten the Gentiles, and be the glory of God's people 
Israel. But also the night cometh, the night of darkness 
and of despair, the night of vengeance, the night of vain 
remorse, the black night of unrepented, unforgiven sin. 

Who is this who is led as a sheep to the slaughter, and 
who openeth not his mouth? Why do they smite him 
with their blows ? why do they pierce his hands and his 
feet? There is darkness over the scene, thick darkness 
over the people: surely "the night cometh." Again the 
scene changes : the watchman beholds afar off a garden, 
fresh and fragrant in the early morning, and sees One 
standing by an open tomb ; and so he cries, " The morn- 
ing cometh." And once more the watchman looks forth, 
and beholds a city, once the joy of the whole earth; and 
he sees the men who loved darkness better than life, the 
men whose hands smote him with their blows and pierced 
his feet and his side, the men who would not hearken 
to the things concerning their peace. And he sees that 
her enemies have cast a trench about the city, and have 
compassed her on every side. He sees the eagle of the 
heathen standing in the holy place, and the steps of 
the altar red with the blood of murder ; and so the 
watchman cries, "The night cometh." 



THE WATCHMAN'S WARNING. 55 

Brethren, the Church is set as a watch-tower, and her 
priests as watchmen. This life of ours is a twilight season, 
and the watchman tells us that there comes a brighter 
morning and a darker night. As in Isaiah's time, so now, 
there are people who ask of us mockingly, " What of the 
night?" Some, like Pilate, will not wait for an answer; 
others, like Felix, wait for a more convenient season to 
hear further of the matter. The one class of people 
comes to church, but not to consult the oracles of God. 
Such people take the holiest words into their mouths, and 
think not of their meaning. "What of the night? " they 
ask : " what new sin, what new danger, will you de- 
nounce?" And then they go away, the one to his farm, 
another to his merchandise, and straightway forget what 
manner of men they are. This is how thousands waste 
the precious hours of service in God's house. Others, 
again, ask of God's ministers, "What of the night?" in 
sheer mockery. "What will this babbler say?" they ask 
each other : " what new terror has he found for the weak 
and superstitious ? All this preaching is a mistake \ we 
do not believe what the preacher says, probably he does 
not believe it himself. We used to take the Bible state- 
ments for granted, and to trust to what we heard in 
church ; but we are wiser now. We have found that the 
Bible can be explained away, and that the church-services 
are only superstition." 

Such is the way of many of our young men and women 
who have made shipwreck of their faith because they 
dare not face the truth. There are others, too, who ask 
the question, "What of the night?" as prisoners who wait 



56 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

for the moment of doom. These are they who have 
practically given up God, who do not pray, who are fast 
bound in the fetters of some besetting sin. " What of the 
night?" they cry: "when will this wasted, wicked life 
pass into the blackness of darkness forever?" But there 
are others who ask the question in all love and sincerity 
and faith, "What of the night? Is the weary time of 
waiting well-nigh over ? is the hard battle with sin nearly 
ended ? is the first streak of the dawn yet visible in the 
sky?" For all, God's minister has the answer, "The 
morning cometh, and also the night." Learn to look 
upon the ministers and stewards of God's mysteries as 
his watchmen ; not as those who must prophesy smooth 
things, and preach pleasant sermons for you to criticise, 
but as those who have a message of life or death for all. 
Hearken to their warning when they tell you that for you 
" the night cometh," — the night of death, " when no man 
can work ; " for there is no work, nor device, nor knowl- 
edge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither thou goest. O 
careless ones, delighting only in the sunshine of to-day, 
and laying up no store for hereafter ! " the night cometh," 
— the night of old age, the night of poverty, the night 
of sorrow, the night when you shall look back mournfully 
into the past and find no comfort. O sons and daughters 
who are joined to an idol, the idol of some besetting sin 
or favorite vice ! for you " the night cometh," — here the 
night of unsatisfied desire, of ruined health, of mournful 
memories, and hereafter the darker night of banishment 
from God and exile from heaven. Hear the watchman's 
warning to-day : — 



FRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 57 

" Return, O wanderer, to thy home, 
'Tis madness to delay; 
There are no pardons in the tomb, 
And brief is mercy's day. 
Return, return ! " 

Hear, too, the welcome message of hope and joy, "The 
morning cometh." O loving hearts that yearn for Jesus ! 
O sorrowing souls who have borne the cross patiently ! O 
kindly ones who have worked for the great Master ! O 
feeble ones who have tried hard to climb to Jesus' knees ! 
for you "the morning cometh," — the morning of better 
things and brighter joys ; the morning when all wrongs 
shall be righted, all mistakes atoned for; the morning 
which ends the heart-ache and the pain, the weary waiting 
and the hope deferred ; the morning in Christ's presence 
which no sorrow can ever darken, and where they can no 
more say " The night cometh" for there is no night there. 



X. 

Ntntlj Bag of 3Unt 
FRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that winneth souls 
is wise. — Prov. xi. 30. 

One of the old English divines pronounces the work 
of Christ's humblest servant in the conversion of a sinner 



58 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

greater than that of Alexander in the conquest of the 
world. Measuring man's nature by God's revelations, 
we cannot charge the estimate with extravagance. Such, 
indeed, is the magnitude and importance of this moral 
achievement — the rescue of a human spirit from the 
power and the peril of sin — that it finds adequate ex- 
pression only in the anthems of heaven and the threnodies 
of hell. It has interested the best of men in every age. 
It has elicited the sympathies and the energies of angels. 
It has stirred the Infinite heart and moved the Almighty 
arm. It has brought heaven down to earth, veiled the 
glories of the Divinity in human flesh, and led the Prince 
of life to the malefactor's tree. For six thousand years 
has it occupied the chief resources of the heavenly Wis- 
dom, the grandest expedients of the universal Providence, 
and all the ineffable riches of the Love divine. 

In this work, let us never forget, God is the Alpha and 
Omega. With him the process begins and ends. The 
plan is his, the instruments are his, and his alone the 
efficient agency. To effect his benevolent purpose, he 
founded the Church, inspired the gospel, commissioned 
the ministry, and instituted and ordained the holy myste- 
ries of grace. " We have this treasure in earthen vessels, 
that the excellency of the power may be of God and not 
of us, that no flesh should glory in his presence." To us 
belongs the service ; to God redounds the glory. But 
what honor equals that of being " workers together with 
him" — dressers of his vineyard, reapers of his harvest, 
stewards of his household, messengers of his mercy, 



FRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 59 

the salutary salt of the earth, the light that illumines the 
world? Such is the sublime vocation described in the 
proverb, and commended for its excellence and utility : 
"The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that 
winneth souls is wise." 

What means "the fruit of the righteous," but his prayers, 
his charities, his good examples, the virtues which com- 
pose his character and adorn his life, and all the efforts 
and influences by which he shows forth his wisdom in 
winning souls? To win is to gain by conquest, or to 
attract by kindly persuasives ; and both ideas are com- 
prehended in a version of this golden sentence by one of 
the early fathers of the Church : " He that sweetly draw- 
eth souls to God maketh a holy conquest of them." To 
win souls, in the best sense, is to bring them to the saving 
knowledge of Jesus, and subjugate them to his gracious 
dominion — to lead them from error to truth, from sin to 
righteousness, and from earth to heaven. It is well ex- 
pressed in St. Paul's apostolic commission to the Gen- 
tiles : — "to turn them from darkness unto light, and 
from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive 
forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them that are 
sanctified through faith in Christ." This is the work to 
which we are called — not the clergy alone, but every 
baptized believer — to which we were solemnly pledged 
at the font, and to which we often renew our obligations 
at the chancel. And if the military chieftain, or the 
accomplished diplomatist, may be proud to subdue or to 
reconcile the enemies of his country, and add a city or a 



60 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

province to its government, how should the soldier and 
servant of Christ rejoice to bring rational and immortal 
spirits, ransomed from the thraldom of sin and the tyran- 
ny of Satan, delighted captives, to his Saviour's feet ! 
And if skilful generalship, or prudent statesmanship, or 
fervid eloquence, or devoted patriotism, may be the means 
of temporal salvation to an oppressed or perilled people, 
how manifest, in matters of infinitely superior moment, is 
the truth of the proposition : — " The fruit of the right- 
eous is a tree of life ; and he that winneth souls is wise " ! 

More than two thousand years ago an illustrious philos- 
opher said : — " There is nothing great on earth but man, 
and nothing great in man but mind." On the missionary 
platform in New York, an excellent minister of Christ, 
now half a century in paradise, declared that he who 
would not, if necessary, travel round the world for the 
salvation of a soul, had not yet attained the first idea of 
the soul's value. The soul — how will you compute its 
worth, or by what standard measure its greatness ? Will 
you estimate it by its nature and origin ? It is the breath 
of God, the inspiration of the Almighty, a copy of the 
divine excellence, though sadly marred by sin. Will you 
estimate it by its powers and capacities ? The faculties 
of reason, conscience and free will which it possesses, 
with its keen and peculiar susceptibilities, and its capa- 
bility of indefinite expansion and improvement, place it 
far above all other products of creative energy with which 
we are acquainted. Will you estimate it by the duration 
of its being ? The body shall return to its dust, the earth 



FRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS, 6l 

shall wax old as doth a garment, and the heavens them- 
selves shall pass away; but the soul, immaterial and 
uncompounded, seems to be constitutionally indissoluble 
and indestructible ; and doubtless, without its Maker's 
fiat to the contrary, it must survive all mundane change 
and revolution. Will you estimate it by the cost of its 
redemption? To appreciate that, you must comprehend: 
the Infinite; you must measure the heights and fathom >. 
the depths of Godhead ; you must know the eternal bliss - 
and glory which the well-beloved Son had with the Father 
before the world was ; and with that bliss and glory you 
must contrast the shame and suffering of his human life 
and death, with all his inconceivable horror and anguish 
when the hand of the Almighty justice " laid on him the 
iniquity of us all." Will you estimate it by the struggle 
for its possession and control? Heaven and hell, dividing 
the good and evil agencies of earth between them, have 
maintained for six thousand years an unceasing contest 
over its moral destinies ; the prince of darkness desper- 
ately assailing the glorious Champion of its salvation, and 
legions of accursed spirits from the bottomless pit chal- 
lenging the embattled valor of the sinless sons of God ; 
and the war shall never terminate, nor relax aught of its 
intensity, till Immanuel, "with his own right hand and 
with his holy arm/' shall have "gotten himself the vic- 
tory," and put all enemies under his nail-pierced feet 
forever. Will you estimate it by comparison with the 
splendid and the precious ? What, then, are thrones and 
crowns and sceptres, the spoils of all conquests, the 
treasures of all kingdoms, the glory of all- empires, the 



62 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

collected gems of earth and ocean, with mountains of 
gold and continents of silver? Nay, "what shall it profit 
a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his 
own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his 
soul?" 

" Behold this midnight glory — worlds on worlds ! 
Amazing pomp ! Redouble this amaze ; 
Ten thousand add ; add twice ten thousand more ; 
Then weigh the whole. One soul outweighs them all, 
And calls the astonishing magnificence 
Of unintelligent creation poor ! " 

And if such is the value of the soul, that worlds acquired 
could not compensate its loss, nor a material universe 
redeem its forfeiture, how excellent, beyond all power of 
language or of thought, the work of saving the priceless 
thing from destruction, and placing it among the crown- 
jewels of the King of kings ! and who so blind and un- 
believing as to dissent from the royal statement — " The 
fruit of the righteous is a tree of life ; and he that winneth 
souls is wise " ! 

But let us look at the matter in another light. The 
soul is fallen, guilty, perishing ; and he who rescues and 
restores it, confers an incalculable and inconceivable ben- 
efit. It is blind, and he opens its eyes ; deaf, and he 
unstops its ears ; dumb, and he sets free its tongue ; sick, 
and he renews its health ; paralyzed, and he restores its 
power; polluted, and he leads it to the cleansing foun- 
tain ; impoverished, and he endows it with the durable 
riches of righteousness ; famishing, and he gives it the 



FRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS, 6$ 

bread of life and the new wine of the kingdom ; gone 
astray, and he seeks it, and finds it, and brings it back 
rejoicing ; bound in prison, and he breaks its chain, de- 
molishes its dungeon, and leads it out to daylight and 
liberty ; condemned to death, and he comes with the 
announcement of pardon, converting the scaffold into a 
throne, the death-cap into a crown of glory, and the 
avenging sword of justice into a royal sceptre of love. 

And who shall limit the effect of your labor, or trace 
the blessed influence to an end? In the mountain soli- 
tudes of the North- West, you shall find a spring trickling 
drop by drop from a rock, and your own foot were suffi- 
cient to arrest the little rill ; but follow its course, and it 
becomes a brook, a torrent, a mighty river, the highway of 
commerce and travel for half a continent. A handful 
of wheat, brought from the Levant, and cast into the soil 
of our new world, grew and multiplied ; and the little 
harvest, sown the next year, brought forth an ampler 
crop ; and so it continued increasing, till whole provinces 
were stocked with the product, and myriads in Europe 
blessed America for their bread. Thus the beneficent 
effect of faithful Christian labor is an ever-swelling stream 
and an ever-enlarging growth. Your humblest efforts are 
rewarded with richest blessings. The seed you sow in the 
family blossoms and bears fruit in the Church. The child 
you bring to baptism, the youth you prepare for confirma- 
tion, the penitent you lead to holy communion, the delin- 
quent brother you stir up to fresh activity of duty, the 
habitual transgressor you dissuade from the ruinous error 
of his way, each shall be a means of incalculable good 



64 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

to others, and they again to a greater number, and the 
influence shall descend to future generations, while con- 
verts multiply from age to age as the drops of the evening 
dew ; and new missions founded, and new parishes organ- 
ized, and new laborers sent into the Lord's vineyard, and 
new zeal and energy developed in every department of 
Christian endeavor, and new hearts by the million trans- 
fused and fired with the ineffable love of Christ, shall 
attest the wisdom of righteousness and the excellence of 
its fruitage. 

And who shall say to what extent you thus affect the 
happiness of the universe — what tides of sweet and holy 
emotion you send through myriads of regenerate human 
hearts — what peace passing all understanding — what joy 
unspeakable and full of glory; and how the kindling rap- 
ture swells and circulates throughout the Church below, 
till it overflows in anthems, and rolls echoing up to heaven, 
gladdening the angels of God ; and as the miracles of 
grace multiply with years, and harvest after harvest is 
gathered into the garner, with every fresh achievement of 
redeeming love, the soul that was so heavy in Gethsemane 
is satisfied with the fruit of its travail, and the heart that 
quivered upon the point of a soldier's spear experiences 
a thrill of compensatory bliss which naught but Infinite 
benevolence can know ; and so all heaven unites with all 
that is heavenly on earth, in witnessing to the precious 
fruit of righteousness, and the transcendent wisdom of 
winning souls ! 



SELF-SUBJECTION. 65 

XL 

Uentjj Bag of 3Lent. 
SELF-SUBJECTION. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. 

I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection : lest that by any 
means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. — 
1 Cor. ix. 27. 

A very homely Northern farmer whom I used to know 
was once speaking of the difference between two kinds of 
preaching he was accustomed to listen to. Some ser- 
mons, he said, were preached at the congregation : in 
others, the preacher seemed always to include himself 
amongst his listeners, — seemed always to manifest the 
consciousness of the necessity of himself taking heed to 
his ways, lest his footsteps should slide. 

The apostolic exemplar of all such lowly- minded 
preaching of the latter kind is St. Paul. His utterances 
are characterized by no lofty pride. This very Epistle to 
the Corinthians is a wonderful instance of self-abasement. 
He speaks of himself as having been chosen by God as 
one of the foolish things of the world, as one of the weak 
things of the world, as one of the base things of the world, 
as one of the things which are despised ; as having been 
so chosen to confound the things that are wise and the 
things that are mighty. When he came amongst his 



66 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

brethren, to preach unto them Christ crucified, he came 
not with excellency of speech or wisdom, but he came in 
weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling. Though 
he preached the gospel, he had nothing to glory in, he 
said. He rebuked those who thought to make much of 
him, and who expressed each of them their allegiance 
to him in the words, " I am of Paul." He, Paul, was 
^nothing : God was every thing. He, Paul, must decrease 
;in their esteem, and Christ must increase. Such of them 
as had spiritually discerned the things of the Spirit of 
God were God's husbandry, not his ; they were Christ's, 
and Christ was God's. If his words seemed at any time 
to call attention to himself as one to be looked up to as 
.a guide, they were immediately qualified by others which 
showed that what he really preached was a " looking unto 
Jesus." If he said, "Be ye followers of me," he at once 
added, " as I also am of Christ." 

And the burthen of all his preaching was, " Christ 
crucified." Does the import of these words ever really 
possess our souls ? Do I and you grasp the idea underly- 
ing them.? and, having grasped it, do we try to incarnate 
it in our very lives? Christ crucified ! The humanity of 
Christ glorified ! but how? By finishing the work the 
Father gave him to do, — by finishing it on the cross. 
The kumanity of Christ sanctified! but how? By a 
death of shame and torture. The humanity of Christ 
made perfect! but how? By suffering. The humanity 
of Christ sacrificed, made holy ! but where ? On the 
cross. The humanity of Christ made evermore divine ! 
but how? How but by lowliness and toil and suffering, 



SELF-SUBJECTION. 67 

by the lowliness and suffering of a despised and rejected 
life, which ended in the death on the cross of Calvary. 
This is what is meant by "Christ crucified." 

But "preaching Christ crucified," — what is that? what 
was it that St. Paul preached both to himself and to 
others? what was it in effect but this, that just as Christ's 
humanity was glorified, sanctified, made perfect, sacrificed, 
made divine, by suffering life-long and ending on the 
cross, so was the human nature of Paul himself, and of 
those to whom he ministered, to be glorified, sanctified, 
made perfect, sacrificed, made divine, by being fixed to 
the cross of earthly suffering. This St. Paul was ever 
preaching. Necessity was laid upon him to preach it. 
" Woe unto me," he said, " if I preach it not." He was 
ever preaching that baptism into Jesus Christ was baptism 
into his death, — was the baptism of suffering ; that walk- 
ing in newness of life was not possible for man unless 
there had been submission to the discipline of the cross ; 
that the likeness of the resurrection could not be mani- 
fested in humanity, unless there had been shown forth 
what was typified in the death of Christ, unless there 
had been a crucifying of the old unsanctified nature. By 
death alone of the unregenerate nature, can man be made 
free from sin. By thus dying, can it alone be said that 
we live. By thus being dead with Christ, can we be 
assured that we live with him, — live with him unto God, 
live with him the divine life of union with the Father. 

And this, my friends, is that teaching of the cross — 
that gospel of the cross — commenced by our Lord him- 
self when he said, " If any man will come after me, let 



68 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me." 
This is the teaching thus commenced by our Lord, and 
ever on St. Paul's lips. This is the teaching underlying 
his constant phrase, — "the preaching of Christ crucified." 
And this teaching is at this Lenten season brought be- 
fore us in the selections from the Church's sacred writings, 
which we speak of as the Epistles and Gospels. Here we 
see our Lord himself taking up the cross of bodily morti- 
fication and fasting. And if the cross of fasting is to be 
preached by a human voice, it must be preached as St. 
Paul preached. His preaching ever had reference to his 
own experience. All preaching of the cross must be such 
as was his. It is not for a preacher to say to those to 
whom he ministers, " My brethren, now is the time to vary 
the usual course of your daily lives by a little fasting; 
now is the time to abstain from meats and delicacies ; now 
is the time to deny the flesh its cravings ; now is the time 
to restrain the pleasures of sense ; now is the time to have 
quiet fish-dinners instead of the usual rich fare." St. Paul 
never preached the cross of self-denial and abstinence in 
this way. If he laid a burden upon any one, it was upon 
himself. It was himself that he pledged to a life of self- 
denial. It was his own body that he kept under — 
brought into subjection to the spirit. He speaks of him- 
self and his brethren in the ministry as being constrained 
to approve themselves " as the ministers of God, in much 
patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in 
stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in watch- 
ings, in fastings." And we who to-day preach the gospel 
of the cross must preach it as he preached it, — must 



SELF-SUBJECTION. 69 

preach it by pointing to the divine example of Christ, by 
trusting to the power of Christ himself to stir up all holy 
desires in the souls who draw nigh to him, and to whom 
he draws nigh in loving union ; and by showing forth in 
our own lives that the example of his self-denial and sub- 
mission to the cross of suffering has not been presented 
to us in vain. The divine secret of the gospel of the 
cross is not made known by formally announcing that it is 
a duty for men on certain days, or during certain seasons, 
to fast. It must be left to Christ himself to whisper the 
divine secret of the daily cross to the humble soul yearn- 
ing for a closer union with God, longing to grow in true 
spiritual life, and willing to submit to every chastening 
discipline, that so the inward spirit may rise to diviner life. 
Christ has ever been whispering the divine secrets of 
the heavenly life into the souls of all the earnest and 
devout. Self-denial and suffering have not been shunned 
by those who have borne his name, and who have been 
transformed into his divine likeness. Many there have 
been, who, like the Apostle Paul, could say that they were 
" always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord 
Jesus ; " that they were for Jesus' sake always being " de- 
livered unto death." The growth of the Christian soul 
is a great mystery. But this we know of it, that it is a 
growth which goes on forever, and that it has to begin 
while the soul is still in union with the body. And while 
it is so united, it may be said of it that it must increase, 
while the body must decrease. Oh ! it dawns upon every 
human soul after it has entered upon the life of union 
with Christ, that such life means a life of submission to 



70 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the cross of Christ. It means other things too ; but sub- 
mission to the discipline of the cross is an essential ele- 
ment, The soul finds, too, that if the pleasures of life 
occupy all its thoughts ; if the desires of the flesh are ever 
encouraged to assert themselves ; if taking life easily, eat- 
ing and drinking and being merry, are allowed to become 
the chief concerns, — the soul finds, that, if it thus gives 
the body the start in the race of life, itself will never 
obtain the heavenly prize. It finds that if it is to strive 
successfully for the mastery, if it is to obtain an incor- 
ruptible crown, it will only do so by keeping under con- 
trol the body, and all its desires and earthly longings ; by 
bringing it into subjection to the higher life of the spirit. 
This is the secret which is revealed to all earnest souls 
striving for closer union with God. This is the secret of 
the Lord which is ever with those whose hearts are pos- 
sessed with a desire to work out their salvation with fear 
and trembling. This is the law of the inward man, the 
law of the hidden soul, which was revealed to St. Paul, 
and which will be revealed more fully to me and to you, 
if we strive as he strove to live the life of the crucified 
One. But it will be forever unintelligible to us if we 
simply hear it spoken in human words. Its meaning will 
not dawn upon us until we hear it uttered to us by the 
still small voice of the Divine Whisperer to human souls. 
St. Paul's preaching of Christ crucified being me crucified 
and you crucified ; being the glorification, the sanctifi- 
cation, the making perfect, the sacrifice, the becoming 
divine, of the human nature which we share with Christ, 
so that it may be exalted into union with his divine 



LEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 7.1 

nature, — this will be words, mere words, sounds, mere 
empty sounds, to me and to you, unless it is borne to our 
souls upon the breath of the Divine One, who is ever 
yearning to become one with us, so that we may become 
one with him. 



XII. 

Seconti Suntiag m Ernt. 
LEA VEN OF THE KINGDOM. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, 
and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened. — Matt. 
xiii. 33. 

Frequently, in Holy Scripture, the same figure of 
speech serves different purposes ; a metaphor or a simile 
being employed to express things quite dissimilar, or 
even opposite in their nature. The lamb stands for both 
foolish timidity and divine gentleness. The serpent de- 
notes either despicable craftiness or commendable wis- 
dom. The lion, which represents the cruel tyranny of 
Satan, is emblematical also of the royal dignity of Christ. 
And wine symbolizes, not only the wrath of Almighty 
God, but with equal propriety the joy and blessedness 
flowing from his love. So leaven typifies, on the one 
hand, human malice and wickedness, corrupt teaching, 



72 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

and hypocritical pretension ; and on the other, as in this 
fine parable of our Lord, the diffusive and regenerative 
power of the Christian faith. 

The chief point of comparison, you will observe, lies 
in that quality of the leaven, resulting from its affinity for 
the meal, by which it moves the mass and imparts its own 
nature to every particle. Christ first quickened his apos- 
tles, endowed them with his own Spirit, and sent them to 
preach the gospel of the kingdom in all the world and to 
every creature. From them the gracious influence passed 
over to others, producing in individuals and communities 
that salutary ferment which resulted in new hearts, new 
habits, new characters, and new relations to God. The 
subjects of this spiritual renovation, organized into a soci- 
ety, with ministry and sacraments ordained by Christ him- 
self, were " a peculiar people, zealous of good works." 
And every soul saved by their agency became an instru- 
ment in the salvation of others, diffusing the original 
blessing over the earth, and sending it down the ages. 

And let us bear in mind the fact that the leaven is not 
found in the meal, but placed there — a foreign agent, 
brought to supply a want in the mass to be leavened. 
And thus the gospel of our salvation is not the manifesta- 
tion of a power already existing and known in the world, 
but a new power brought down from heaven ; not a hu- 
man philosophy evolved, but a divine revelation imparted ; 
not the product of man's genius, but the embodiment 
of the manifold wisdom of God ; not the development of 
the better parts of our nature, but a quickening principle 



LEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 73 

infused into the paralyzed and death-stricken spirit ; not 
the smouldering spark amidst the ashes fanned into a 
flame, but a live coal taken with the tongs from the altar, 
purifying the heart of the sinner while it hallows the lips 
of the prophet ; not the rallying of all surviving energies 
around the original centre of life in the moribund soul, 
but the breath of God going forth over the valley of dry 
bones, till the multitudinous dead tremble into a living 
army of the Lord. 

But is there no human agency in the process? Very 
naturally the parable speaks of a woman, because the 
mixing of dough and the baking of bread are ordinarily 
a woman's work. Yet, without unwarrantable allegorizing, 
we may see in this woman the Church, which in Holy 
Scripture is frequently spoken of as a woman, a virgin, 
the bride of Christ, and the mother of saints. And is 
not the Church, with her ministries and sacraments, the 
organ through which God manifests his truth and grace 
for the salvation of men — the channel through which he 
conveys his Holy Spirit to the conscience and the heart, 
regenerating, purifying and transforming? Where and 
when were sinners ever brought from darkness to light, 
from the power of Satan to God, without the agency — 
conscious or unconscious — direct or indirect — of the 
Church ? For this very purpose the Church was organ- 
ized, the apostles were commissioned, and the mysteries 
of grace were instituted. For this purpose the Holy 
Spirit has taken up his abode im the Church, to remain 
with her forever, making her indeed the salt of the earth 
and the light of the world.. For. this he has transfused 



74 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

her- system with his own vital energy, inspired her clergy 
with his own heavenly charity, and fired many of her 
laity with a self-exhausting zeal, enabling her to mingle a 
pure and noble leaven with the corrupt mass of humanity 
for the effectual leavening of the lump. 

It is observable also, that the leaven is said to be, not 
merely mixed with the meal, but hidden in it. And this 
suggests the important fact, that the process of grace is 
secret, silent and gradual ; working outward from within ; 
beginning in the invisible and spiritual world, but effecting 
in due time a thorough change in the external and visible. 
"The kingdom of heaven is within you," and " cometh 
not with observation. " The divine leaven is a hidden 
power. The princes of this world knew it not, neither 
did its philosophers understand the mystery. The heath- 
en writers in the early ages of Christianity betray an utter 
ignorance of what was going on under the surface of 
social life around them. Little thought the haughty mas- 
ters of the world that their very catacombs contained a 
weakness stronger than their strength, a folly wiser than 
their wisdom, a patience more enduring than their cruelty, 
a gentleness destined to outlast and vanquish their vio- 
lence, a poverty which should enrich the nations beyond 
all their vaunted affluence, a humility that must sit en- 
throned above the wreck of their demolished power and 
splendor. All were quite unconscious of that mysterious 
force which was slowly but surely undermining their whole 
system of idolatry, and ready to subvert all their cher- 
ished institutions, till Christianity planted her feet upon 
the steps of the throne and grasped the sceptre of the 






LEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 75 

Caesars. None of the sages of those times, the far-seeing 
statesmen, nor the most sagacious of the emperors, ever 
recognized this divine agency, or dreamed of the irresisti- 
ble energy which it embodied, till they found it upheaving 
the whole mass, permeating and influencing every thing, 
even to the remotest limits of the empire. 

Nor is this so very wonderful, when we consider the 
apparent insignificance of the means employed, and their 
manifest inadequacy of themselves to the accomplishment 
of so grand a result. The woman has no choice wines, 
nor rich cordials, nor strong chemicals, nor mysterious 
machinery — nothing but a little fermented dough. Shall 
this make the whole three measures of meal a light and 
wholesome substance, fit for the palates of princes and 
the table of the king? "What will this babbler say?" 
What will these fishermen, publicans, tent-makers, do? 
What is to be expected from this new fanaticism, this 
moon-stricken madness, but disastrous failure and ruin? 
Is not the system utterly unphilosophical, and the sect 
everywhere spoken against, despised at Jerusalem, ridi- 
culed at Antioch, laughed to scorn at Athens, treated as 
stark insanity in Rome, while the whole power of the em- 
pire is pledged to its overthrow? So thought the world 
of nascent Christianity. And still, to the worldly philoso- 
pher, to the rationalistic and unspiritual man, the means 
which God employs for the salvation of souls seem most 
unlikely, if not utterly inadequate and contemptible. 
What to him is the Bible, but an old book, which may or 
may not be true, to be placed upon the same shelf with 
Livy, Josephus, and the Mussulman's Koran? and what 



76 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

its teachings, better than those of Plato, Confucius, and 
Zoroaster? and what its miracles, more than the mon- 
strous myths of the Pagans, the pious tricks of the Jesuits, 
or the blasphemous travesties of modern spiritualism? 
What to him is the Holy Ghost, but the simple personifi- 
cation of good influences? and his inspiration, but the 
elevation of human genius? and his quickening and trans- 
forming power, but the natural development or habitual 
culture of the best and noblest in man? And what to 
him is the Christian saint, but one who practises the pur- 
est morality from the highest motives ? and the Christian 
Church, but a mere human institution, with no express 
divine warrant or sanction? and the Christian ministry, 
but simply a profession, with no better aim or function 
than that of medicine or that of law? and the Christian 
sacraments, but bare ceremonial shows to make an im- 
pression upon the imagination, if not worthless signs and 
symbols of fanciful unrealities ? So low, indeed, are these 
divinely ordained agencies estimated, that men refuse to 
recognize the civilization and culture, the devotion and 
virtue, the liberty and affluence, everywhere surrounding 
them, adorning their own condition, and blessing their 
domestic estate, as in any manner or measure the effect 
of the grace of God. They eat of the bread and ac- 
knowledge its excellence, but deny the efficacy of the 
leaven. 

Yet the change is wrought, and the change is radical, 
and in due time it shall be manifest and all-pervading. 
Is not this the prophecy of the parable? The entire 
mass of meal is ultimately leavened. Three measures 



LEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 77 

are mentioned, because that was about the quantity taken 
for an ordinary family baking. Three measures made one 
ephah, which was just what Abraham and Gideon each 
prepared for his angelic guest. But some find here a 
mystical reference to the three chief faculties of our spir- 
itual nature — the intellectual, the emotional, and the 
volitional ; others, to the three main elements of our 
complex personality — the soma, the psyche, and the 
pneuma ; others again, to the three post-diluvian pro- 
genitors of the human race — Shem, Ham, and Japheth ; 
and others still, to the three great divisions of the globe 
known when our Lord uttered the parable — Asia, Africa, 
and Europe. These theories may be more fanciful than 
real, and more ingenious than rational ; be that as it may, 
the whole mass is leavened — all the faculties of our 
nature, all the elements of our being, all the divisions of 
our race, all the sections of our world. Grace triumphs 
over nature, and humanity is renovated and redeemed. 
As the leaven makes the solid lump light, porous and 
spongy, penetrating it throughout with innumerable small 
cavities, by which the heat obtains access to every por- 
tion, as is necessary to the perfect baking of the bread ; 
so the truth and grace of God in the gospel of the king- 
dom affect the human recipient in every faculty and ele- 
ment of his nature, rendering him susceptible to every 
worthy and beneficent influence, creating him anew in 
Christ Jesus unto righteousness and true holiness. And 
as the leaven in the meal manifests its presence by its 
operation and effect ; so does this divine agency in the 
Church, by the regeneration of individual character and 



78 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the moral transformation of society. None of us needs 
a professional baker to tell him which is leavened and 
which unleavened bread ; and may we not as readily 
discern in general between the righteous and the wicked, 
between the subjects and the enemies of the kingdom? 
Whatever is human is changed and transformed by the 
work of the woman and the contact of the leaven. All 
the distinctions of race and country, rank and culture, 
clime and custom, age and occupation, yield to the 
heavenly influence, and find the gospel of Christ the sav- 
ing power of God. But what a marvel, unprcedented and 
unparalleled in history, have we in this glorious achieve- 
ment — a crucified carpenter displacing the Jupiter of 
the Capitol, and triumphing over the superstitions of all 
nations — a Jew upon a gibbet worshipped by the whole 
world, and that worship enduring and increasing through 
the ages ! What deified emperor has held his temple, 
his statue, or even his tomb? Where is all that mighty 
population of gods once created by human adulation? 
Their monuments have vanished, and their dust cannot 
be found. But Jesus of Nazareth, crowned with thorns, 
still reigns upon his cross. By crucifixion having de- 
scended lower than death, he makes his very ignominy 
the fountain of his glory, and his vanquished enemies 
prophesy the universality and eternity of his empire. 
The day is coming — and who knows what convulsions, 
and revolutions, and amazing providences, and unprece- 
dented miracles of power and grace, may hasten its ad- 
vent? when the knowledge of the Lord shall fill the earth 
as the waters cover the sea, and the many kingdoms of 



LEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 79 

this world shall become the one kingdom of Christ, who 
must reign for ever and ever. 

But as there are certain conditions necessary to the 
effectual operation of the leaven in the meal, so are there 
well-known conditions on which depends the power of 
the kingdom of heaven in the salvation of the human 
soul. As the leaven will not work well in either too high 
or too low a temperature, so the process of divine grace 
through the gospel may be prevented by fiery fanaticism 
or obstructed by frigid indifference. Whether an individ- 
ual or a community is to be wrought upon, there must be 
no corruption of the leaven by any foreign or unfriendly 
admixture — no heresy mingled with the apostolic faith 
— no human theory, nor philosophical speculation, nor 
science falsely so called, wrought into the system of the 
Church — no new discoveries, developments, inventions, 
or improvements, to mar the influence or counteract the 
energy of that which was perfect at the first and will be 
perfect to the last. And there must be a due conjunction 
of wisdom, charity and godly zeal on the part of the 
human agency employed ; with susceptibility, docility and 
humility in the subject — a candid mind, a contrite heart, 
a practical application of the truth, and fervent prayer for 
heavenly aid. If you oppose the gospel, resist the Holy 
Spirit, and reject the counsel of God against yourselves \ 
if you come to church for the gratification of your taste, 
for the satisfaction of your social feelings, from the desire 
of conformity to public custom, or in a spirit of captious 
or sceptical criticism ; if you tread the Lord's courts, and 
compass his altars, and listen to his word, full of pride 



80 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

and vanity, envy and jealousy, malice and bitterness, am- 
bition and covetousness, or any evil temper or unholy 
principle ; oh ! there is not an angel of God that with all 
his wisdom could instruct you, with all his reason convince 
you, with all his eloquence persuade you, with all his 
heavenly charity move and melt and mould the sinful 
heart. You must be ready to receive the blessing ; you 
must appropriate the gift by faith in the Divine Giver ; 
you must put away all your evil practices, and deny all 
your evil passions — whatever is incompatible with the 
kingdom of grace, or disqualifying for the kingdom of 
glory — and receive with meekness the ingrafted word, 
w T hich is able to save the soul — which, with a power 
mightier than miracle, shall cleanse the leper, cast out the 
demon, and quicken the dead in trespasses and sins. 
And if you would see the Redeemer's kingdom prosper 
around you, as well as realize its saving power within you ; 
if you would bring the King's enemies, subdued and 
reconciled, to his feet, and add gems to his diadem of 
many crowns ; you must devote yourselves, soul and body, 
a living sacrifice, upon his altar, who gave himself a ran- 
som for you upon the cross. And thus will you prove, 
by the increasing power and purity of the Church, by the 
triumph of truth and holiness over error and wickedness, 
by the rallying of faithful hearts animated with a divine 
ardor around Immanuel's banner, by myriads of blood- 
washed saints tranfused with the love of Jesus and hasten- 
ing to their immortal home, that " the kingdom of heaven 
is like leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three 
measures of meal, till the whole was leavened." 



THE PURIFYING HOPE. 81 

XIII. 

lEIefjmtfj Bag of Eent. 
77/^ PURIFYING HOPE. 

REV. A. MACLAREN, D.D. - 

And every man that hath this hope in Him puiifieth himself, even as 
He is pure. — i John iii. 3. 

That is a very remarkable "and" with which this 
verse begins. The apostle has just been touching the 
very heights of devout contemplation, soaring away up 
into dim regions where it is very hard to follow : " We 
shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." 

And now, without a pause, and linking his thoughts 
together by a simple " and," he passes from the unim- 
aginable splendors of the beatific vision to the plainest 
practical talk. Mysticism has often soared so high above 
the earth that it has forgotten to preach righteousness, 
and therein has been its weak point. But here is the 
most mystical teacher of the New Testament insisting on 
plain morality as vehemently as his friend James could 
have done. 

The combination is very remarkable. Like the eagle 
he rises ; and like the eagle, with the impetus gained from 
his height, he drops right down on the earth beneath ! 

And that is not only a characteristic of St. John's teach- 
ing, but it is a characteristic of all the New-Testament 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



morality. Its highest revelations are intensely practical. 
Its light is at once set to work, like the sunshine that 
comes ninety millions of miles in order to make the little 
daisies open their crimson-tipped petals ; so the profound- 
est things that the Bible has to say are said to you and 
me, not that we may know only, but that knowing we 
may do, and do because we are. 

So John here : " We shall be like him, for we shall see 
him as he is. And " (a simple coupling-iron for two 
such thoughts) " every man that hath this hope in him ? " 
— that is, in Christ ; not in himself, as we sometimes read 
it, — " every man that hath this hope/' founded on Christ, 
" purifies himself, even as he is pure." 

The thought is a very simple one, though sometimes it 
is somewhat mistakenly apprehended. Put into its gen- 
eral form, it is just this : If you expect, and expecting 
hope, to be like Jesus Christ yonder, you will be trying 
your best to be like him here. It is not the mere purify- 
ing influence of hope that is talked about ; but it is the 
specific influence of this one hope, the hope of ultimate 
assimilation to Christ, leading to strenuous efforts, each a 
partial resemblance of him, here and now. And that is 
the subject I want to say a word or two about this morning. 

I have only two things to say about this matter, and 
one of them is this : Of course, such strenuous effort of 
purity will only be the result of such a hope as that, be- 
cause such a hope will fight against one of the greatest 
of all the enemies of our efforts after purity. There is 
nothing that makes a man so down-hearted in his work 
of self-improvement as the constant and bitter experience 



THE PURIFYING HOPE. &$ 

that it seems to be all of no use ; that he is making so 
little progress ; that with immense pains, like a snail 
creeping up a wall, he gets up, perhaps, an inch or two, 
and then all at once he drops down, and farther down 
than he was before he started. 

Slowly we manage some little patient self-improve- 
ment ; gradually, inch by inch and bit by bit, we may be 
growing better : and then there comes some gust and out- 
burst of temptation, and the whole painfully reclaimed 
soil gets covered up by an avalanche of mud and stones, 
that we have to remove slowly, barrow-load by barrow- 
load. And then we feel that it is all of no use to strive ; 
and we let circumstances shape us, and give up all 
thoughts of reformation. 

To such moods then there comes, like an angel from 
heaven, that holy, blessed message, " Cheer up, man ! 
'We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.' 
Every inch that you make now will tell then, and it is not 
all of no use. Set your heart to the work : it is a work 
that will be blessed, and will prosper." 

Again, here is a test for all you Christian people, who 
say that you look to heaven with hope as to your home 
and rest. 

A great deal of the religious contemplation of a future 
state is pure sentimentality, and, like all pure sentimen- 
tality, is either immoral or non-moral. But here the two 
things are brought into clear juxtaposition, — the bright 
hope of heaven, and the hard work done here below. 
Now, is that what the gleam and expectation of a future 
life does for you ? 



84 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

This is the only time in John's Epistle that he speaks 
about hope. The good man, living so near Christ, finds 
that the present, with its " abiding in him," is enough for 
his heart. And, though he was the seer of the Apoca- 
lypse, he has scarcely a word to say about the future in 
this letter of his ; and when he does, it is for a simple and 
intensely practical purpose, in order that he may enforce 
on us,, the teaching of laboring earnestly in purifying 
ourselves. 

My brother, is that your type of Christianity ? Is that 
the kind of inspiration that comes to you from the hope 
that steals in upon you in your weary hours, when sor- 
rows and cares and changes and loss and disappoint- 
ments and hard work weigh you down, and you say, " It 
would be blessed to pass hence " ? Does it set you harder 
at work than any thing else can do ? Is it all utilized ? 
Or, if I might use such an illustration, is it like the elec- 
tricity of the aurora borealis, that paints your winter sky 
with vanishing, useless splendors of crimson and blue? 
or, have you got it harnessed to your tram-cars, lighting 
your houses, driving sewing-machines, doing practical 
work in your daily life ? Is the hope of being like Christ 
a thing that stimulates and stirs us every moment to hero- 
isms of self-surrender and to strenuous martyrdom of self- 
cleansing ? 



THE SEEN* AND THE UNSEEN. 85 

XIV. 

STtelftlj Dag of 3Lcnt. 
THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 

REV. H. N. GRIM LEY, A.M. 

While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things 
which are not seen : for the things which are seen are temporal ; but the 
things which are not seen are eternal. — 2 Cor. iv. 18. 

The distinction here made is between the material and 
the spiritual, — between gross ponderable substance, and 
substance ethereal and divine. It is true that in latter 
days the word "matter" has been applied even to all ethe- 
real substances. It has been found that all have more 
or less of materiality. But we must retain the distinction 
as we find it in the language of our forefathers, and not 
be afraid of the revelations which science may make as 
to the nature of things ethereal or breath-like. We must 
not be unmindful of this, that language is framed in 
accordance with the appearances of things, and that there 
is a sense in which it may be said that things- are not 
what they seem. -We are inclined to shrink from asso- 
ciating the densely material things around us with the 
unseen spiritual world. But the things which seem so 
grossly material to us do so only because of the presence 
of the great ^attracting body, the earth. If they could be 
removed many millions of miles away from the earth, they 



86 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

would lose the greater part of the 'weight which gives us 
the idea of their gross materiality ; but, for all that, they 
would be just as material as before. So that the acci- 
dental properties of the things we see around us, if we 
dwell upon them alone, and wrongly think of them as 
unchangeable, will not at all help us to a conception of 
the things as they are in their very essence, or as they 
might appear to ourselves if the conditions of our exist- 
ence were changed. 

Such thoughts as these, it seems to me, will help our 
minds to grasp the idea of the reality of the unseen soul, 
and of the unseen spiritual world ; and these are the 
eternal things of which St. Paul speaks. 

The soul, we may be assured, is a very real thing, and 
will always be so. To strip it of its ethereality, of its 
breath-like structure, because such words are now seen to 
have kinship with those which denote the dense materi- 
ality which is so apparent to our bodily eyes, is to reduce 
immortality to the mere perpetuation of the thought that 
men have lived, so that it becomes only an immortality 
inshrined in the memories of future generations, or an 
existence only of the unembodied thoughts, affections, 
and aspirations which determine the state of growth in 
grace in which the departed one quits the visible for the 
invisible world, in the all-comprehensive remembrance of 
the Divine One. But this is not the immortality that we 
as Christians look for and long for. This is but annihila- 
tion. How could any progressive life be possible for the 
soul so refined away into nothingness? Wfc look for a 
future existence in which we shall each preserve our own 



THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN, 87 

identity. This we cannot do unless we are clothed upon 
with the spiritual body of which St. Paul speaks. The 
remembrances of an earthly life could not be entangled 
in vacuum. The future life must have links connecting 
it with this. 'The unseen soul is now in intimate con- 
nection with our visible bodies ; and the unseen world 
is not sundered from the world we see : but, though 
they are unseen, they are very real. And we must be 
ever pondering upon them, so that the conviction of 
their reality may be impressed more and more upon 
our consciousness. 

A wonderful kinship is becoming more and more pos- 
sible for us to conceive of as existing between the visible 
world and the unseen spiritual world, in which the unseen 
parts of our beings are destined to enter upon an eternity 
of existence. This thought, which is every day more 
and more taking possession of men's minds, helps us to 
look upon God's created world with more reverent eyes. 
God himself is enthroned in the unseen world. All who 
have ever had on earth the human form divine are living 
there in his presence. The unseen world underlies the 
visible world, and God is ever very near to us, and the. 
spirits of the departed are ever in our midst. Their ex- 
istence now, and the world in which they live, are just as 
real and substantial to them as our existence and the 
visible world are to us. But that world in which they 
live is hot wholly hidden from us. Thoughts of it are 
continually presenting themselves to the mind, and must 
be heeded. The thoughts of it which have been borne 
in upon the minds of our forefathers, and which have 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



been preserved for us, we call inspired thoughts, and we 
regard the pages on which they are inscribed for us as 
sacred. And the thoughts were inspired : they were 
borne into the souls of men by the breath of the Divine. 
And the pages on which they are noted down are sacred : 
no one can read them reverently without hearing within 
himself the silent whisperings of assurance as to their 
truth ; and man has ever been conscious that he has but 
yielded to a divine intuition in preserving them as treas- 
ures transcending all other things in the world. 

But the Divine One not only grants us revelations of 
the unseen world by means of the treasured-up inspira- 
tions of the past. The world around us is an ever-present 
witness to us of the existence of things unseen. The 
world of nature, — that ever-changing world, the world of 
that which is ever being born out of the life of God, the 
world in which we may look upon ever-new manifestations 
of the great life of the Divine One, — that itself is an 
ever-present token of a presence Divine. The sacra- 
mentalism of nature — for such is the name we may give 
to this great principle — is presenting itself to the minds 
of men with increasing vividness. " The things that are 
made " are being more and more discerned as suggestive 
to the human mind of thoughts respecting " the invisible 
things of God." These thoughts are presenting them- 
selves only to reverent and loving souls. 

" When love interprets what the eye discerns, 
When mind discovers what is really meant, 
When grace improves what man from nature learns, 
Each sight and sound becomes a sacrament." 



THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 89 

Even science every day reveals more and more what a 
divine beauty there is in this world, which has lain hidden 
from the eyes of men of the past. It teaches us, that, if 
our bodily eyes were differently constituted, we might be 
able to discern that all along there has been underlying 
material things an unseen glory of color and form. There 
are spectrum rays of light which make no impression on 
the eye as it is at present constituted ; and there are 
some men whose vision is so fine that they see rainbow 
brilliances of color unperceived by others. These facts 
impress upon our minds the thought that this present 
world is, in the eyes of the divine all-seeing One, all 
aglow with glories unrevealed to us. Are we never to see 
the underlying beauty? May it not be this very hidden 
glory which the blessed ones behold with rapture now 
with the unveiled eyes of the spirit-body? 

That there is an unseen glory underlying all created 
things, that there is a Divine presence in the world, that 
the whole world is indeed to us a sacramental token of 
that presence, we have in the Christian Church an ever- 
present witness in the sacrament of the Eucharist. The 
Divine One who is ever saying to us of the sacramental 
bread and wine, " This is my body, this is my blood," 
and who thus reveals himself to the human soul as the 
nourisher of its spiritual life with his own divine life, — 
he to all reverent souls is ever saying, of the world which 
is visible to us all, " This is my bodily vesture, this is the 
chosen medium for the inflowing of my life-giving Spirit 
to you." He is ever clothing himself with light as with 
a garment ; he is ever moving with the wings of the 



go CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

wind ; the heavens are ever declaring his glory, and his 
celestial splendors are ever disclosing themselves to our 
inner souls by means of the wonders around us in earth 
and sky and sea. 

Oh, may the thought of a Divine presence in the world, 
to which our solemn Eucharist is a perpetual witness, 
grow within us, and be the theme of many reverent medi- 
tations ; and may we too, as we recognize with more and 
more vividness that mystic presence, be ever submissive 
to divine teachings, ever yearning to be enriched with 
divine wisdom, and to be sanctified with divine love, 
with the love and wisdom which will bring us more and 
more into oneness with the Divine, and more and more 
into sweet communion with one another, with our fellow- 
Christians the wide world over, and with all the faithful 
departed in the spiritual world which is ever around us. 



XV, 

aEljnrtantJj Bag of 2Lent. 
DRAWING NEAR TO GOD. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

It is good for me to draw near to God. — Ps. lxxiii. 28. 

And to be habitually so far from thee, O my God ! is 
not this my greatest evil? To worship thee at such a 
distance and serve thee with so cold a heart, is not this 



DRAWING NEAR TO GOD. 91 

my sorest sin and misfortune? To live without thee, 
without the knowledge and the love of thee, is not this 
the most dreary and the most hopeless of all human con- 
ditions? Without thee, how can I perform my duties, 
endure my sorrows, enjoy my mercies, fulfil the purpose 
of my being, or look for any thing better beyond the 
grave ? Thou art the soul of my soul, my light in dark- 
ness, my strength in weakness, and the inspiration of all 
my joy. Both helpless and hopeless I am, if thou with- 
hold thy succor and conceal thy face. It is good for me 
to draw near to thee. 

Is it good for the sheep to be with the shepherd ? It 
is never safe without him. It can neither defend itself, 
nor supply its own wants. With what confidence the 
timid creature follows, responding to the familiar call ! 
Thou, O Lord ! art my Shepherd. I shall not want. Thou 
makest me to lie down in green pastures. Thou leadest 
me beside the still waters. With heavenly food thou 
restorest and sustainest my soul. Folded and defended 
by thee, I am safe from the thief and the robber, from 
the wolf and the lion, from the pit and the precipice, 
from stumbling upon the dark mountains amidst the 
windy storm and tempest. Yea, though I walk through 
the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; 
for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff shall 
comfort me. 

Is it good for the child to be with the father? He 
needs the father's counsel, guidance, guardian care, and 
daily providence. The child who, like the prodigal of 



92 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the parable, forsakes his father, shall fall into temptations 
and miseries, from which he shall escape only by return- 
ing to his father's house. Thou, O Lord ! art my Father. 
Born of thy Holy Spirit, I am partaker of thy holiness. 
Thou hast given me the spirit of adoption, by which I 
cry, Abba, Father. Assured of thy love, I come to thee 
with confidence, and ask for what I need. Ever with 
thee, all that thou hast is mine. I am thy heir, and joint- 
heir with thy First-born, to an inheritance incorruptible 
and imperishable, reserved for all thy saints, as well as 
me, in heaven. 

Is it good for the pupil to be with the teacher? The 
latter can help him with his lessons, solve difficult 
problems for him, clarify what is too obscure for his ap- 
prehension, lead him through the intricate labyrinths of 
science, and unseal to him the pure fountains of classic 
lore. Thou, O Lord ! art my Teacher. To me, as to 
Israel of old, thou sayest : " I am the Lord thy God that 
teacheth thee." In thy school, I sit me down at thy 
feet, and how sweet to my soul are the words of thy 
mouth ! The great text-book is before me — thy written 
will, thy published law, the code of thy kingdom, a 
lamp to my feet, a light to my path, able to make me 
wise unto salvation. What were all the science and 
learning of this world, to that which thy Word and thy 
Spirit teach me ? 

Is it good for the servant to be with the master? Some 
servants, away from the master, are unfaithful, and worse 
than useless ; and the best servants may labor better in 
the master's presence, with his words to stimulate and his 



r RAWING NEAR TO GOD. 93 

smiles to cheer them. Having the master to direct them, 
they are confident of pleasing and satisfying; and this 
relieves the toil, and makes the duty a delight. Thou, 
O Lord ! art my Master. I recognize thy authority, and 
rejoice to do thy will. Loving thee because thou hast 
loved me, I desire to serve thee with all my heart, and 
soul, and mind, and strength. I owe thee the utmost 
service of every faculty throughout the endless duration 
of my being. Submission to thy will, thanksgiving for 
thy goodness, admiration of thy wisdom, imitation of thy 
holiness, veneration of thy majesty, confidence in thy 
faithfulness, obedience to thy commandments, and fidelity 
to all the interests of thy kingdom, are what thou requirest 
of all. In thy presence, and with thy approval, the yoke 
is easy and the burden light — the joy of " angels strong 
and seraphs blest." 

Is it good for the artist to be with the model? He 
wants to copy it. He must have it constantly before him. 
He must observe and study every part. The minutest 
point must not escape his notice. The closer the atten- 
tion, the better the copy. Thou, O Lord ! art my Model. 
In natural perfections I cannot be like thee ; but thy 
moral qualities, with the aid and inspiration of thy Holy 
Spirit, I may transfer to my own soul, as the painter trans- 
fers to his canvas, tint after tint and feature after feature, 
the picture before him ; or as the sculptor, with careful 
diligence and anxious toil, transfers to the rough and 
shapeless marble every lineament of the beautiful statue, 
till the perfect copy stands forth as faultless as the origi- 
nal. So would I reproduce thy moral image in this fallen 



94 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

and polluted soul. In my measure, I would be holy as 
thou art holy, loving as thou art loving, forbearing as thou 
art forbearing, forgiving as thou art forgiving, beneficent 
as thou art beneficent, in all things perfect even as thou 
art perfect. And to do this, I must be much with thee, 
studying thee, copying thee, yielding to the impress of 
thy Holy Spirit. Nay, my Sun of righteousness ! let me 
be the mirror to catch thy blessed beams, and glow with 
the reflection of thy glory ! 

Is it good for the sinner to be with the Saviour? To 
whom but him shall he go for pardon, for cleansing, for 
resurrection, for eternal life? To whom shall he make 
his confession and supplication, and in whose mercy and 
merit shall he trust, if not in the living God, who is the 
Saviour of all men, especially of them that believe ? Thou, 

Lord ! art my Saviour. By thy incarnation in my na- 
ture thou hast drawn near to me. Perfect God and perfect 
man, I find in thee the measure of my soul's necessities 
— wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and complete 
redemption. Thy mercy is greater than my guilt. Thy 
blood can cleanse me from all uncleanness. Thy peace 
shall tranquillize my troubled conscience. Thy love shall 
fill me with joy unspeakable and full of glory. What can 

1 do for myself — wretched bond-slave of sin and Satan? 
Am I not continually breaking the vows which I have 
made, and falling again into the follies and offences of 
which I have repented ? O Captain of my salvation ! 
with contrite heart to thee I come. Every other depend- 
ence I renounce ; every other hope I abandon. Thine 
is the only name given under heaven by which I can be 



"THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND SKY:' 95 

saved. " Thou art my hiding-place ; thou wilt preserve 
me from trouble \ thou wilt compass me about with songs 
of deliverance." Therefore, with all my sinfulness and 
misery, it is good for me to draw near to thee. 



XVI. 

jfourtenttj) Bap of HettU 
" THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND 

SKvr 

REV. A. MACLAREN, D.D. 

Mercy and truth are met together ; righteousness and peace have kissed 
each other. — Ps. Ixxxv. 10. 

This is a lovely and highly imaginative picture of the 
reconciliation and re-union of God and man, "the bridal 
of the earth and sky." 

The poet-psalmist, who seems to have belonged to the 
times immediately after the return from the exile, in 
strong faith sees before him a vision of a perfectly har- 
monious co-operation and relation between God and 
man. He is not prophesying directly of Messianic times. 
The vision hangs before him, with no definite note of 
time upon it. He hopes it may be fulfilled in his own 
day ; he is sure it will, if only, as he says, his countrymen 
" turn not again to folly." At all events, it will be fulfilled 
in that far-off time to which the heart of every prophet 



g6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

turned with longing. But, more than that, there is no 
reason why it should not be fulfilled with every man, at 
the moment. 

It is the ideal, to use modern language, of the relations 
between heaven and earth. Only that the Psalmist be- 
lieved, that as sure as that there was a God in heaven, 
who is likewise a God working in the midst of the earth, 
the ideal might become, and would become, a reality. 

" Mercy and truth are met together \ righteousness and 
peace have kissed each other." We have here the heav- 
enly twin sisters, and the earthly pair that corresponds. 
"Mercy and truth are met together," — that is one per- 
sonification ; " Righteousness and peace have kissed each 
other," is another. It is difficult to say whether these 
four great qualities are to be regarded as all belonging to 
God, or as all belonging to man, or as all common both 
to God and man. The first explanation is the most 
familiar one ; but I confess, that looking at the context, 
where we find throughout an interpenetration and play of 
reciprocal action as between earth and heaven, I am 
disposed to think of the first pair as sisters from the 
heavens, and the second pair as the earthly sisters that 
correspond to them. Mercy and truths two radiant 
angels, like virgins in some solemn choric dance, linked 
hand in hand, issue from the sanctuary, and move amongst 
the dim haunts of men, making " a sunshine in a shady 
place ; " and to them there come forth, linked in a sweet 
embrace, another pair whose lives depend on the lives 
of their elder and heavenly sisters, — righteousness and 
peace. And so these four, — the pair of heavenly origin, 



"THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND SKY." 97 

and the answering pair that have sprung into being at 
their coming upon earth, — these four, banded in perfect 
accord, move together, blessing and light-giving, amongst 
the sons of men. Mercy and truth are the divine, right- 
eousness and peace the earthly. 

Let me dwell upon these two couples briefly. " Mercy 
and truth are met together," means this : that these two 
qualities are found braided and linked inseparably in all 
that God does with mankind ; that these two springs are 
the double fountains from which the great stream of the 
river of the water of life, the forthcoming and the mani- 
festation of God, takes its rise. 

" Mercy and truth." What are the meanings of? the 
two words ? Mercy is love that stoops, love that departs 
from the strict lines of desert and retribution. Mercy is 
love that is kind when justice might make it otherwise. 
Mercy is love that condescends to that which is far be- 
neath. Thus the " mercy " of the Old Testament covers 
almost the same ground as the " grace " of the New 
Testament. 

And truth blends with the mercy;, that is to say, 
truth in a somewhat narrower than its widest sense, mean- 
ing mainly God's fidelity to every obligation under which 
he has come; God's faithfulness to. promise, God's fidel- 
ity to his past, God's fidelity, in his actions, to his own 
character, which is meant by that great word,." he sware 
by himself." 

Thus the sentiment of mercy, the tender grace and 
gentleness of that condescending love, has- impressed 
upon it the seal of permanence when we say : Grace and 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



truth, mercy and faithfulness, are met together. No 
longer is love mere sentiment, which may be capricious 
and may be transient. We can reckon on it : we know 
the law of its being. The love is lifted up above the 
suspicion of being arbitrary, or of ever changing or fluc- 
tuating. We do not know all the limits of the orbit, but 
we know enough to calculate it for all practical purposes. 
God has committed himself to us ; he has limited himself 
by his obligations, by his own past. We have a right to 
turn to him, and say, " Be what thou art, and continue 
to us what thou hast been unto past ages." And he re- 
sponds to the appeal. For mercy and truth, tender, 
gracious, stooping, forgiving love, and inviolable faithful- 
ness that can never be otherwise, — these blend in all his 
works ; " that by two immutable things, wherein it was 
impossible for God to lie, we might have a strong conso- 
lation." 

Again, dear brethren, let me remind you, these two are . 
the ideal two, which, as far as God's will and wish are 
concerned, are the only two that would mark any of his 
dealings with men. When he is, if I may so say, left free 
to do as he would, and is not forced to his " strange act " 
of punishment by my sin and yours, these, and these only, 
are the characteristics of his dealings. 

Nor let us forget, " We beheld his glory, the glory as 
of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and 
truth" The psalmist's vision was fulfilled in Jesus 
Christ, in whom these sweet twin characteristics, that are 
linked inseparably in all the works of God, are welded 
together into one in the living personality of Him who is 



"THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND SKY." 99 

all the Father's grace embodied, and is the way and the 
truth and the life. 

Turn now to the other side of this first aspect of the 
union of God and man. " Mercy and truth are met to- 
gether ; " these are the heavenly twins. " Righteousness 
and peace have kissed each other; " these are the earthly 
sisters who sprang into being to meet them. 

Of course I know that these words are very often 
applied, by way of illustration, to the great work of Jesus 
Christ upon the cross, which is supposed to have recon- 
ciled, if not contradictory, at least divergently working 
sides of the Divine character and government. And we 
all know how beautifully the phrase has often been em- 
ployed by eloquent preachers, and how beautifully it has 
been often illustrated by devout painters. 

But, beautiful as the adaptation is, I think it is an 
adaptation, and not the real meaning of the words, for 
this reason, if for no other : that righteousness and peace 
are not in the old Testament regarded as opposites, but 
as harmonious and inseparable. And so I take it that 
here we have distinctly the picture of what happens upon 
earth when mercy and truth that come down from heaven 
are accepted and recognized, — then righteousness and 
peace kiss each other. 

Or, to put away the metaphor, here are two thoughts : 
first, that, in men's experience and life, righteousness and 
peace cannot be rent apart. The only secret of tranquil- 
lity is to be good. " First of all, King of righteousness, 
and after that King of Salem, which is the King of peace." 
"The effect of righteousness shall be peace," as Isaiah, 



IOO CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

the brother in spirit of this psalmist, says ; and on the 
other hand, as the same prophet says, " The wicked is 
like a troubled sea that cannot rest, whose waters cast up 
mire and dirt ; there is no peace, saith my God, to the 
wicked." But where affections are pure, and the life is 
worthy, where goodness is loved in the heart and followed 
even imperfectly in the daily life, there the ocean is quiet, 
and " birds of peace sit brooding on the charmed wave." 
The one secret of tranquillity is first to trust in the Lord, 
and then to do good. Righteousness and peace kiss each 
other. 

The other thought here is that righteousness and her 
twin sister peace only come in the measure in which the 
merqy and the truth of God are received into thankful 
hearts. My brother, have you taken that mercy and that 
truth into your soul, and are you trying to reach peace 
in the only way by which any human being can ever 
reach it, — through the path of righteousness, self-sup- 
pression, and consecration to him ? 

Ah, brethren ! That is the crown and climax of the 
harmony between God and man, that his mercy and his 
truth, his gifts and his grace, have all led us up to this : 
that we take his righteousness as our pattern, and try in 
our poor lives to reproduce its wondrous beauty. Do not 
forget that a great deal more than the psalmist dreamed 
of, you Christian men and women possess, in the Christ 
who of God is made unto us righteousness, in whom 
heaven and earth are joined forever, in whom man and 
God are knit in strictest bonds of indissoluble friendship ; 
and who, having prepared a path for God in his mighty 



KEEPING THE HEART. ioi 

mission, and by his sacrifice on the cross, comes to us ; 
and, as the Incarnate Righteousness, will lead us in the 
paths of God, leaving us an example, that " we should 
follow in his steps." 



XVII. 

tftftecntf) Sag of Hent 
KEEPING THE HEART. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life. — 
Prov. iv. 23. 

Gold thou mayest neglect, jewels discard, bonds and 
stocks repudiate, houses and lands suffer to be alienated, 
most precious things of earth cast into the depths of the 
sea. But thy heart thou must keep, "for out of it are 
the issues of life." It is the throne of thought, the fount 
of feeling, the mainspring of action. Hence come thy 
words, beam thy smiles, flow thy tears, arise thy motives, 
march forth thy purposes like hosts arrayed for war. All 
virtue and all vice lie within its province — all impressions 
and impulsions for good or ill. It is the home of the 
supreme sentiment, dominating the whole man — the bat- 
tle-ground of the great central principle, where character 
and destiny are decided — the pivot on which eternal 
judgment turns — the gate opening into heaven or hell. 



102 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

Therefore, " keep thy heart with all diligence" — lit- 
erally, "with all keeping" — by every available means, 
in every possible manner. Keep it carefully, watchfully, 
actively, valiantly, and constantly. Keep it " meek and 
lowly, pure and holy," full of faith and love, ever tender 
and penitent, always growing in grace and divine knowl- 
edge, daily becoming more and more a copy of the heart 
of Christ. 

How wouldst thou keep a treasure or a jewel? Enclose 
it in a safe or a casket, deposit it in a vault or a tower, 
lock it up in a castle or a treasure-house, guard it by a 
cordon of soldiery, suffer none but the proper custodian 
to touch or approach it, and come often in person to see 
that all is right and secure ? So keep thy heart. 

How wouldst thou keep a garden or a vineyard ? Hedge 
it around for protection, gather out its stones, pluck up 
every weed, carefully plough and pulverize, enrich with 
fore gn fertilizers, plant with choice seed and select roots, 
train each shoot in its proper direction, prune the wanton 
luxuriance of its growth, and watch the ripening product 
night and day? So keep thy heart. 

How wouldst thou keep a parlor or a chamber? Sweep 
its carpets, dust its furniture, brush down the spiders' 
webs, adorn the walls with pictures, hang rich tapestry 
around the windows, paint and varnish when necessary, 
beautify with bronze and marble, see that ventilation and 
temperature are salutary, preserve every thing in proper 
place and harmonious order, and suffer no unsightly thing 
or noisome odor within ? So keep thy heart. 

How wouldst thou keep a castle or a fortress? Make 



KEEPING THE HEART. 103 

its outer walls strong and high, fortify them with lofty 
towers, man them with brave defenders, surround them 
with a deep and broad fosse, so construct the drawbridge 
that it may quickly be closed or opened, secure the iron 
gates with solid bolts and bars, guard the approaches on 
all .;ides by armed men, permit no stranger to enter with- 
out due examination and proper passport, and have every 
thing ready for the reception of the noble or princely 
occupant when he shall come? So keep thy heart. 

How wouldst thou keep a fortune or an inheritance? 
Assure thyself that the title is perfectly good and valid, 
ascertain whether thy guardian or executor is quite honest 
and trustworthy, examine the documents to know if every 
thing has been legally devised and done, promptly attend 
to the correction of any and every fault or flaw in the 
proceedings, acquaint thyself with the chief points of law 
involved in the matter, make sure that there is no incum- 
brance upon the property that can hereafter invalidate thy 
claim, avoid whatever might disqualify thee for thy future 
position, and by every needful virtue make thyself worthy 
of the inheritance? So keep thy heart. 

Keep it for God ; he made it for himself, and comes to 
claim it as his own. Keep it for Christ ; he bought it 
with his precious blood, and will not part with his pur- 
chase. Keep it for the Church; consecrated at her font 
and her chancel, she has a living claim upon its every 
pulsation. Keep it for the world ; the divinely constituted 
salt of its conservation, the greatly needed light of its 
illumination. Keep it for thyself; character in this life, 
destiny in the next, interests immeasurable as immortality, 



104 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

depend upon thy fidelity to the duty. " Keep thy heart 
with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." 



XVIII. 

Stxtenttjj Bag of 2Leni 
MAN'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. 

REV. A. MACLAREN, D.D. 
The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup. — Ps. xvi. 5. 

We read, in the law which created the priesthood in 
Israel, that " the Lord spake unto Aaron, Thou shalt have 
no inheritance in their land, neither shalt thou have any 
part among them. I am thy part and thine inheritance 
among the children of Israel" (Num. xvii. 20). Now, 
there is an evident allusion to that remarkable provision 
in this text. The Psalmist feels that in the deepest sense 
he has no possession amongst the men who have only 
possessions upon earth, but that God is the treasure which 
he grasps in a rapture of devotion and self-abandonment. 
The priest's duty is his choice. He will " walk by faith 
and not by sight." 

Are not all Christians priests ? and is not the very es- 
sence and innermost secret of the religious life this, — 
that the heart turns away from earthly things, and delib- 
erately accepts God as its supreme good and its only 
portion ? 



. MAN'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. 105 

" The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and of my 
cup." The two words which are translated in our version 
" portion" and "inheritance" are substantially synony- 
mous. The latter of them is used continually in reference 
to the share of each individual, or family, or tribe, in the 
partition of the land of Canaan. There is a distinct allu- 
sion, therefore, to that partition, in the language of our 
text; and the two expressions, part or "portion," and 
"inheritance," are substantially identical, and really mean 
just the same as if the single expression had stood, "The 
Lord is my portion." 

I may just notice, in passing, that these words are evi- 
dently alluded to in the New Testament, in the Epistle to 
the Colossians, where Paul speaks of God " having made 
us meet for the portion of the inheritance of the saints in 
light." 

And then the "portion of my cup" is a somewhat 
strange expression. It is found in one of the other 
Psalms, with the meaning " fortune," or " destiny," or 
"sum of circumstances which make up a man's life." 
There may be, of course, an allusion to the metaphor of 
a feast here ; and God may be set forth as " the portion 
of my cup," in the sense of being the refreshment and 
sustenance of a man's soul. But I should rather be dis- 
posed to consider that there is merely a prolongation of 
the earlier metaphor, and that the same thought as is 
contained in the figure of the " inheritance " is expressed 
here (as in common conversation it is often expressed) 
by the word " cup \ " namely, that which makes up a 
man's portion in this life. It is used with such a mean- 



106 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

ing in the well-known words, " My cup runneth over ; " 
and, in another shape, in " The cup which my Father hath 
given me, shall I not drink it?" It is the sum of cir- 
cumstances which make up a man's " fortune." So the 
double metaphor presents the one thought of God as 
the true possession of the devout soul. 

Now, how do we possess God? We possess things in 
one fashion, and persons in another. The lowest and 
most imperfect form of possession is that by which a man 
simply keeps other people off material good, and asserts 
the right of disposal of it as he thinks proper. A blind 
man may have the finest picture that ever was painted ; 
he may call it his, that is to say, nobody else can sell it : 
but what good is it to him ? A lunatic may own a library 
as big as the Bodleian, but what use is it to him? Does 
the man who draws the rents of a mountain-side, or the 
poet or painter to whom its cliffs and heather speak far- 
reaching thoughts, most truly possess it? The highest 
form of possession, even of things, is when they minister 
to our thought, to our emotion, to our moral and intel- 
lectual growth. We possess even them really, according 
as we know them, and hold communion with them. 

But when we get up into the region of persons, we 
possess them in the measure in which we understand 
them, and sympathize with them, and love them. Knowl- 
edge, intercourse, sympathy, affection, — these are the 
ways by which men can possess men, and spirits, spirits. 
A man that gets the thoughts of a great teacher into 
his mind, and has his whole being saturated by them, 
may be said to have made the teacher his own. A 



MAN'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. 107 

friend or a lover owns the heart that he or she loves, and 
which loves back again. And not otherwise do we possess 
God. 

Such ownership must be, from its very nature, recipro- 
cal. There must be the two sides to it. And so we read 
in the Bible, with equal frequency, the Lord is the " in- 
heritance of his people," and his people are "the inher- 
itance of the Lord." He possesses me, and I possess him 
— with reverence be it spoken — by the very same ten- 
ure ; for whoso loves God has him, and whom he loves 
he owns. There is deep and blessed mystery involved 
in this wonderful prerogative, that the loving, believing 
heart has God for its possession and indwelling Guest ; 
and people are apt to brush such thoughts aside as mys- 
tical. But, like all true Christian mysticism, it is intensely 
practical. 

We have God for ours, first, in the measure in which our 
minds are actively occupied with thoughts of him. We 
have no merely mystical or emotional possession of God 
to preach. There is a real, adequate knowledge of him 
in Jesus Christ. We know God, his character, his heart, 
his relations to us, his thoughts of good concerning us, 
sufficiently for all intellectual and for all practical pur- 
poses. I wish to ask you a plain question : Do you ever 
think about him ? 

There is only one way of getting God for yours ; and 
that is by bringing him into your life by frequent medita- 
tion upon his sweetness, and upon the truths that you 
know about him. There is no other way by which a spirit 
can possess a spirit that is not cognizable by sense, ex- 



108 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

cept only by the way of thinking about him, to begin 
with. All else follows that. That is how you hold your 
dear ones when they go to the other side of the world. 
That is how you hold God, who dwells on the other side 
of the stars. There is no way to " have " him, but through 
the understanding accepting him and keeping firm hold 
of him. Men and women that from Monday morning to 
Saturday night never think of his name, how do they pos- 
sess God? And professing Christians that never remem- 
ber him all the day long, what absurd hypocrisy it is for 
them to say that God is theirs ! 

Yours, and never in your mind ! When your husband, 
or your wife, or your child, goes away from home for a 
week, do you forget them as utterly as you forget God ? 
Do you have them, in any sense, if they never dwell in 
the " study of your imagination/' and never fill your 
thoughts with sweetness and with light? 

And so, again, when the heart turns to him, and when 
all the faculties of our being, — will, and hope, and im- 
agination, and all our affections, and all our practical 
powers, — when they all touch him, each in its proper 
fashion, then and then only can we in any reasonable and 
true sense be said to possess God. 

Thought, communion, sympathy, affection, moral like- 
ness, practical obedience, — these are the way (and not 
by mystical raptures only) by which, in simple prose fact, 
is it possible for the finite to grasp the Infinite, and for a 
man to be \h€ owner of God. 

Now, there is another consideration very necessary to 
be remembered ; and that is, that this possession of God 



MAN'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. 109 

involves, and is possible only by, a deliberate act of re- 
nunciation. The Levite's example, that is glanced at in 
my text, is always our law. You must have no part or 
inheritance amongst the sons of earth, if God is to be 
your inheritance. Or, to put it into plain words, there 
must be a giving-up of the material and the created, if 
there is to be a possession of the divine and the heavenly. 
There cannot be two supreme, any more than there can 
be two pole-stars, one in the north and the other in the 
south, to both of which a man can be steering. 
You cannot stand with — 

" One foot on land, and one on sea, 
To one thing constant never." 

If you are going to have God as your supreme good, you 
must empty your heart of earth and worldly things, or 
your possession of him will be all words and imagination 
and hypocrisy. Brethren, I wish to bring that message to 
your consciences to-day. 

And what is this renunciation? There must be, first 
of all, a fixed, deliberate, intelligent conviction lying at 
the foundation of my life, that God is best, and that he 
and he only is my true delight and desire. Then there 
must be built upon that intelligent conviction that God is 
best, the deliberate turning-away of the heart from these 
material treasures. Then there must be the willingness 
to abandon the outward possession of them, if they come 
in between us and him. Just as travellers in old days, 
that went out looking for treasures in the western hemi- 
sphere, were glad to empty out their ships of their less 



HO CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

precious cargo in order to load them with gold, you must 
get rid of the trifles, and fling these away, if ever they 
so take up your heart that God has no room there. Or 
rather, perhaps, if the love of God in any real measure, 
howsoever imperfectly, once gets into a man's soul, it will 
work there to expel and edge out the love and regard for 
earthly things. 

Just as, when the chemist collects oxygen in a vessel 
filled with water, as it passes into the jar it drives out the 
water before it ; the love of God, if it come into a man's 
heart in any real sense, in the measure in which it comes 
will deliver him from the love of the world. 

But between the two there is warfare so internecine 
and endless that they cannot co-exist ; and here, to-day, 
it is as true as ever it was, that, if you want to have God 
for your portion and your inheritance, you must be con- 
tent to have no inheritance amongst your brethren, nor 
part amongst the sons of earth. 

Men and women, are you ready for that renunciation ? 
Are you prepared to say, " I know that the sweetness of 
thy presence is the truest sweetness that I can taste ; and 
lo ! I give up all besides, and my own self. 

" ' O God ! of good the unfathomed sea, 
Who would not yield himself to thee ' " ? 

And remember that nothing less than these is Chris- 
tianity, — the conviction that the world is second and not 
first; that God is best, love is best, truth is best; knowl- 
edge of him is best ; likeness to him is best ; the will- 
ingness to surrender all if it come in contest with his 



MAN'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. in 

supreme sweetness. He that turns his back upon earth, 
by reason of the drawing power of the glory that excel- 
leth, is a Christian. The Christianity that only trusts to 
Christ for deliverance from the punishment of sin, and so 
makes religion a kind of fire-insurance, is a very poor 
affair. We need the lesson pealed into our ears as much 
as any generation has ever done, " Ye cannot serve God 
and mammon." A man's real working religion consists 
in his loving God most, and counting his love the sweetest 
of all things. 

The one true, pure, abiding joy is to hold fellowship 
with God, and to live in his love. The secret of all our 
unrest is the going-out of our desires after earthly things. 
They fly forth from our hearts like Noah's raven, and 
nowhere, amid all the weltering flood, can find a resting- 
place. The secret of satisfied repose is to set our affec- 
tions thoroughly on God. Then our wearied hearts, like 
Noah's dove returning to its rest, will fold their wings, 
and nestle fast by the throne of God. " All the happi- 
ness of this life," said William Law, "is but trying to 
quench thirst out of golden empty cups." But if we will 
take the Lord for " the portion of our cup," we shall never 
thirst. 

Let me beseech you to choose God in Christ for your 
supreme good and highest portion ; and, having chosen, 
to cleave to your choice. So shall you enter on posses- 
sion of good that truly shall be yours, even " that good 
part, which shall not be taken away from you." 

And, lastly, remember that if you would have God, 
you must take Christ. He is the true Joshua, who puts 



112 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

us in possession of the inheritance. He brings God to 
you, — to your knowledge, to your love, to your will. He 
brings you to God, making it possible for your poor sinful 
souls to enter his presence by his blood, and for your 
spirits to possess that divine Guest. " He that hath the 
Son hath the Father ; " and if you trust your souls to 
Him that died for you, and cling to him as your delight 
and your joy, you will find that both the Father and the 
Son come to you and make their home in you. Through 
Christ the Son, you will receive power to become sons of 
God ; and if children, then heirs, — heirs of God, because 
joint heirs with Christ. 



XIX. 

3Tf)irtJ Suntiag fix ILent 
PURSUIT OF CHARITY. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

Follow after charity. — i Cor. xiv. i. 

St. John was pre-eminently the apostle of love. On 
the bosom of the Divine Love incarnate, he learned to 
love with an ardor and a tenderness among men seldom 
equalled and never surpassed. Very justly is he called 
" the disciple whom Jesus loved ; " for the Master found 
in him something so congenial and attractive, that on 



PURSUIT OF CHARITY. 113 

several recorded occasions he treated him with excep- 
tional favor and familiarity. Love is the keynote of his 
epistles, on which he dwells so sweetly, and to which he 
returns so often, that we have come to consider this Chris- 
tian quality as more fully exemplified in his character, and 
more constantly inculcated in his writings, than in those 
of any other apostle. Yet it is a remarkable fact, that 
the most comprehensive account of love — of its nature, 
its properties, and its relative importance — as well as the 
most touching and beautiful — to be found in the whole 
volume of Holy Scripture, is from the pen of St. Paul. 

In natural temper, early education, and apostolic inves- 
titure, the two writers differed widely ; yet both describe 
the same Christian affection with its various manifestations 
and fruits, but each in his own characteristic manner. 
St. John, being of a contemplative turn of mind, seems 
most at home in the calm inner depths of love ; while 
St. Paul, always intensely practical, delights to trace its 
development and application in the active life of men. 
With the former, it is the tranquil repose of full satis- 
faction and perfect confidence ; with the latter, it is an 
out-bursting energy and soul-consuming zeal. The one 
theorizes divinely, and his eloquent logic leads captive the 
mind and the heart of the reader ; the other translates 
his theory into practice, and makes love the characteristic 
principle of Christian life, the very pulse of regenerate 
and sanctified souls. 

Here the matter is set before us by St. Paul in a light 
the most vivid and attractive ; charity — which is only, 
another name for love — being exhibited as the crowning 



I 14 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

excellence of Christianity, the sum of all social morality, 
the image of God in the soul of man — greater than the 
gift of tongues, wiser than the knowledge of mysteries, 
holier than the power of prophecy, sublimer than the 
mightiest miracles, more bounteous than the largest be* 
neficence," more heroic than any voluntary martyrdom, 
more enduring than all supernatural endowments, and 
in its sphere and functions transcending both faith and 
hope. 

Just before his passion, Jesus said to the twelve : " A 
new commandment give I unto you, That ye love one 
another — as 1 have loved you, that ye also love one an- 
other.'' His favorite apostle, who could never forget that 
saying, many years afterward, with frequent repetitions 
and variations echoed the precious word in the ears of 
the whole Catholic Church. He calls the command both 
a new command and an old command, and the simplest 
disciple need not stumble at the paradox. The new com- 
mand is old because it calls for mutual love, which God 
has required from the beginning; the old command is 
new because Christ's love to us all is to be the motive, 
the model and the measure of our love one to another. 
Love is the very essence of Christianity. Brotherly love 
is the half of Christianity, and the best evidence to the 
world that we have been with Jesus and learned of him. 
" By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if 
ye have love one to another." The word is as true to-day 
as when it fell from the lips of our Lord. 

But very apt we are to deceive ourselves, claiming to 



PURSUIT OF CHARITY. 115 

be his disciples while we lack the one thing that more 
than all others can entitle us to the name. Let the 
apostle correct our errors. If we have not the spirit of 
Christ, we are none of his. Wanting the charity here 
described, whatever else we may possess, we are not 
practical Christians. To a complete Christian character 
all these attributes are essential. In different Christians 
they may exist in different degrees, and in the same 
Christian some of them may be more largely developed 
than others ; but in every renewed and purified heart the 
germinal principle must dwell, the generic virtue in which 
they all inhere. 

Deem not yourselves Christians, then, in the true prac- 
tical sense, because you have received the initiatory sac- 
rament of the Church, and been brought into the bond 
of the covenant, and incorporated with the mystical body 
of Christ, which is the blessed company of all faithful 
people ; for what avails the baptismal blessing which is 
not accompanied by Christian love? and how will the 
washing of regeneration save you, if you lead not the rest 
of your life according to this beginning? Woe to them 
that bear the name of Christ without his image, receive 
the sign of the cross without the spirit of the Crucified, 
and call Jesus Lord and Master while they are totally 
destitute of the charity which his service requires ! 

You may frequent the house of God, and delight in its 
eucharistic solemnities ; you may erect the family altar, 
and gather your children around the morning and even- 
ing sacrifice ; you may observe with the utmost exactness 
your seasons of private devotion, and commune frequently 



Ii6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

with revealed truth in the written Word ; but by no such 
formalities can you deceive Him who looketh upon the 
heart, and will never mistake the flower for the fruit, the 
shadow for the substance, the casket for the jewel, the ex- 
ternal act for the internal principle. 

And what is all your knowledge, if you have not charity, 
but the cold moonbeams gilding the mountain snows which 
they cannot melt? "Knowledge puffeth up, but charity 
buildeth up;" and the difference between them is that 
of the gay balloon inflated with gas, and the marble 
palace filled with the precious treasures of art and empire. 
The most intelligent citizen may basely betray his coun- 
try, and the best-informed Churchman may prove the 
Judas of the band. Boast as you will of your illumina- 
tion, the lamp you rejoice in may but light your way to 
hell. 

And religious emotion — what is that but the mark of a 
lively temperament ? A person of sensibility will sigh and 
weep, or laugh and applaud, at a musical or dramatical 
performance, in which there is no religious element, the 
sentiment of which is even corrupt and demoralizing, as 
multitudes do under sensational sermons and in exciting 
revival scenes. Is it not the very shallowness of the soil 
that makes the seed spring up so quickly and wither so 
soon away? 

" It is good to be zealously affected always in a good 
thing • " but zeal is not in every case accompanied by 
charity, and vain were the effort to create a surplus stock 
of one virtue to make up for the deficiency of another. 
What though you give more than your neighbor to the 



PURSUIT OF CHARITY. 117 

great work of the Church, or go forth yourself as one of 
the videttes of the sacramental host, and wear out the 
energies of life in contending for the faith, or fall beneath 
your banner in the foremost rank of battle ? Is the fiery 
ardor that impelled you to such martyrdom more pleasing 
in the sight of Heaven than the meek and gentle charity 
that more than all other virtues glorified the militant Cap- 
tain of your salvation? 

Believe me, dear brethren ! against this dangerous de- 
lusion you cannot be too carefully guarded. A fearful 
thing it is, too fearful for expression in words, to deceive 
one's self in " the vast concerns of an eternal scene." 
An error in temporal affairs subsequent care and diligence 
may retrieve, for the wounds of the soul religion provides 
a healing balm, and the immedicable ills of the present 
life have the consolatory promise of abundant compensa- 
tion in the life to come ; but to build for eternity upon 
the shifting sands — to find the frail pleasure-bark at last 
circling in the gyrations of the whirlpool — to see the 
light in which we have so long trusted going out in the 
gathering gloom of a night that knows no morning — this 
is too frightful for a Christian's contemplation. Ah ! how 
many on this very rock have wrecked immortal hopes ! 
Failing to discriminate between the true evidence of 
Christian character and the false criteria which have mis- 
led multitudes in the estimate of their spiritual state, they 
have involved themselves in practical errors inevitably re- 
sulting in a moral ruin too vast for human thought to 
compass or conceive. " This is a lamentation, and shall 
be for a lamentation." 



Ii8 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



XX. 

Seventeenth HBag of 3Lent 

HUMANITARIANISM AND CHRIS- 
TIANITY. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. 
Having your loins girt about with truth. — Eph. vi. 14. 

One of the most hopeful signs of the present day is the 
change which has come over the minds of the world's 
sceptics and atheists. The scoffing tone of the old 
assailers of Christianity is not upon the lips of the doubt- 
ers of to-day. Their very doubt is passing through a 
reverent phase. Their scepticism may be spoken of as 
an attitude of earnest inquiry. A more humane, a more 
gentle spirit, pervades all their utterances. The leavening 
influence of Christianity has at length worked its way to 
the very centre of the realm of doubt and disbelief. The 
men to whom Christian belief is an impossibility, and to 
whom the faith which renders the devout Christian so 
vividly conscious of the realities of the unseen world is 
utterly unknown, are beginning to confess that the heart 
of man is ever yearning for an object of worship. They 
have of late been rearing up in their midst what they call 
a religion, and devoting themselves to what they call a 
worship, — the religion of humanity; the worship of 
humanity. Let us compare their religion with Christian- 
ity, their worship with that of Christians. 



HUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 119 

They, by the religion of humanity, mean the prolonged 
contemplation of all that is noble and heroic in the life 
of humanity in the past. They assert — and with some 
truth — that it is not possible for the human mind to form 
any conception of humanity more exalted than that which 
may be gathered from a diligent study of human history 
in the past. The virtues that we call godlike, — how 
comes it that we have any idea of them? They say, be- 
cause we have noted them in the lives of the men who 
have been. Attainments that we call heroic, — we have 
no notion of any, say they, but what we find recorded in 
the history of the past. Our notions of self-sacrifice, of 
devotion to the good of others, of a life of love, of charity 
divine, are, they assert, existing in us simply because the 
lives of the men and women of past times present us with 
instances of such. In order that what has been in the 
past may be prolonged into the future ; in order that 
human history may, in the future, write itself in lines as 
glowing as those which flash to us through the darkness 
of the past f — let us, they say, keep ever before us the 
contemplation of the noblest achievements, the divinest 
thoughts, the deeds of tenderest devotion, which past 
history can present to us ; let us pay to the memories of 
those whose influence upon the men of their own days 
was most exalting, or the story of whose lives has stirred 
to noblest feelings the heart of succeeding generations, 
let us pay to them the highest honor possible for us to 
render to them ; let us reverence them ; let us worship 
them ; let the thoughts of the living be directed towards 
those who are no more seen, in a solemn union ; and let 



120 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

us call our united offering of adoration and praise the 
worship of humanity. 

In this religion of humanity, the thoughts of the living 
are directed both towards the past and towards the future. 
The past is contemplated, and the noblest souls of the 
past are worshipped, in order that the continuity of the 
highest life of humanity may be preserved ; in order that 
the future may be worthy of the past, may be in accord 
with it ; in order that what has been realized once may 
be realized again. But let us, my friends, look more 
closely into the past of our humanitarian brethren ; let us 
dwell upon their future. Alas ! there is nothing more for 
us to contemplate. In the past and in the future, there 
is no God presented to our thoughts. There is no immor- 
tality for the souls of our forefathers. When their bodies 
returned to dust, nothing more lingered behind than their 
memories. All their aspirations unrealized on this earth, 
all their endeavors hindered from being worked out here, 
all their noble sorrows, all their hopes in a future of end- 
less growth in wisdom and love, were stifled in the dust 
of the grave. After all, — such is the sad confession of 
these brethren of ours, — the old symbols which Christian- 
ity caused to disappear were the right ones. The shat- 
tered column, and the inverted torch, — these are really, 
according to the new humanitarian notions, true types of 
the death which brings life to an abrupt close, and 
quenches the longings of the spirit of man. The past 
and the future have no other arena for human endeavor 
than the visible world. In the future there will simply be 
a succession of generations repeating the efforts of their 



HUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 121 

forefathers, and preserving the remembrances of their 
thoughts and deeds. And, than this existence in the 
memories of the men and women of the future, there is 
no other immortality for the human soul. They who ac- 
cept this hopeless gospel of latter days have to think of 
the human spirit entering upon the sleep of annihilation. 
There is no future life in which the mysteries which sur- 
round us here will be gradually unfolded to the eager souls 
of men. And in the present and the past there has been 
no divine aid for humanity in its strivings after a higher 
life, in its passionate searchings after truth. Its existence 
in the past has been one of utter isolation ; and in the 
future the same loneliness is in store for it, — loneliness 
followed by the unbroken silence of annihilation. 

Hopeless and sad as is this view of human life and 
human destiny, its adherents adopt a tone far different 
from the scoffing one indulged in by the sceptics of 
former days. Sad and hopeless as it is, it has elements 
of nobleness within it. But these redeeming elements 
are in reality borrowed from the Christianity to. .which it 
offers its silent protest. My friends, the Christianity in 
which we find the hopes which sustain us along, the path 
of life, and which will be our solace as death, approaches, 
has inshrined within it that reverence for the past life of 
humanity which justifies us in recognizing- irx the humani- 
tarianism of to-day a higher tone than that which ani- 
mated the scepticism of former times.. We in qui\ religion 
are encouraged to look back upon the, pa^t, with reverent 
feelings, to keep alive in our hearts. .the remembrance of 
the heroism and the devotion oX qux^ forefathers. But 



122 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the life of humanity in the past, which we contemplate, is 
a life divinely aided. " God's dealings with his children 
in the past," is a phrase we are often dwelling upon. 
" The noble works that thou, O God, didst in the days of 
our fathers, and in the old times before them ; " these are 
words which are uttered in your hearing Sunday after 
Sunday. The literature which reveals to us the doings of 
God to his people in the far-away past is preserved by us 
with a reverence which we could not bestow upon it, were 
it less than divine. We call it "revelation," because it 
discloses to us the purposes of God towards a world 
whose redemption and sanctification are ever in his 
thoughts. We call it " inspired," because we believe in 
human souls receiving divine aid. We call it " the word 
of God," because we are possessed by the thought that 
in God we all live and move and have our being, and that 
the highest thoughts of men are but an outflow from the 
thoughts of God. The Bible, the book which we treas- 
ure as the Book of books, will be to us an ever-present 
witness of the sanctity of the life of humanity in the past. 
The Bible will ever give to us this divine teaching, that 
through all times God is present in the world, manifesting 
his divine purposes in the history of the nations, aiding 
men in all their earnest strivings after truth, revealing to 
reverent workers the mysteries of creation, and enabling 
the thoughts of men to grow in all divine knowledge. 

The very word " humanity," which is often uttered by 
the adherents of the modern religion of hopelessness, im- 
plies the contemplation of an ideal man, embodying the 
excellences of all actual men. Such an ideal creation of 



HUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 123 

the human mind, we, of course, shall do ourselves no 
harm by dwelling upon ; but our Christian religion brings 
before us unceasingly the contemplation and worship of a 
Divine Man, not the ideal of the mind which the humani- 
tarians have set up, but the real man Christ Jesus, with 
whom also the Divine is in mystic union. The mind may 
dwell upon the thought of an ideal man, as it may dwell 
upon any other poetic fancy. But the Jesus we contem- 
plate and adore is no fanciful creation. He is a real man. 
He has lived on earth the life of a brother. He has en- 
tered into conscious sympathy with all the suffering that 
man in this life can be subject to. In his sacred person, 
the Divine entered into union with the human. What a 
godlike significance does the thought of this union im- 
part to human life ! God himself felt the need of becom- 
ing incarnate so that he might enter into tender, quivering 
sympathy with his own creatures, and manifest his love 
towards them. We as Christians have, then, no ideal man 
for our thoughts to be content with idly musing on : we 
have this real Divine Man, of whose historic existence 
we can have no manner of doubt, and whose advent into 
the world has altered the whole course of human history. 
In the union of the Divine with the human in him, we are 
able to read the assurance of the possibility of our own 
present and future union with the Divine, — the assurance 
of the reception of a redeemed humanity into union with 
God. 

There is not a single one of the notions which has 
found a home in the religion which fails to recognize the 
immortality of the human soul, which does not exist in a 



124 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

glorified form in the Christianity in which we find the 
God of our forefathers and the Saviour of the world. 

Our forefathers, — what has humanitarianism to tell us 
of them consolatory to the human spirit ? All that is left 
of them, it says, is the dust beneath our feet, and the 
remembrances of them that we may happen to cherish. 
With what hopes does our Christian religion inspire us? 
It inspires us with the blessed hope of immortality for our 
forefathers and for ourselves. It teaches us of the spiritual 
bodies which we possess now, and which we shall possess, 
too, in the unseen world towards which we are hastening. 
It tells us of the union of all the faithful departed in the 
celestial Church, — their union with one another, and with 
the Lord. It tells us of a divine humanity, — of a society 
of the spirits and souls of righteous men in eternal union 
with the divinely human Jesus. It speaks to us, too, 
of the communion of saints, of the sweetness and joy 
which spring from a loving interchange of thought and 
sympathy with one another on earth, and from our open- 
ing our hearts to all the tender messages which the 
good Lord sends to us by his ministering spirits, the 
saints in glory, who dwell with him in union, and who 
with him work to bring about the final redemption of 
humanity. 

These are some of the main aspects of the Christian 
truth with which our loins should ever be girt. Truth, 
what is it? is a question which is ever being asked. 
Christianity inspires us with the hope that the question is 
one which is ever being answered in this life as we grow 
in holiness and love, and one which in a future life will 



HUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 125 

be more fully answered, — one, indeed, the answering of 
which will be one great feature of the mysterious life to 
come. That modern system I have been speaking of — 
the latest expression of the doubt and scepticism of the 
world ; the humanitarianism, all whose excellences are 
but the faintest shadows of the divine realities of Chris- 
tianity ; the system, all who accept which must banish 
hope from their hearts — tells us there is no answer to 
such questions ; that we shall never get beyond mere 
guesses and conjectures ; that the grave to which we 
are all journeying will hush forever the inquiring spirit, 
and silence forever the voices of revelation ; that the 
unseen world to which we all are hastening, some of us 
with our hearts so eagerly desirous of knowing there 
something of the mysteries which baffle us here, — to 
which we as Christians go, so hopefully confident that 
the revelation commenced here will be continued there, 
that mysteries of creation will be unveiled to us, that the 
mystery of evil which lies like a dark shadow across our 
path in this world will be cleared away, that indeed the 
whole life during the endless years before us will consist 
in a continuous growth in wisdom as well as love, — hu- 
manitarianism, 1 say ; tells us that the unseen world to 
which we are going so eagerly and so hopefully is, after 
all, but a delusion, a world of darkness and annihilation ; 
and that the human soul has cherished all its passionate 
desires, all its cravings for truth, in vain. 

And yet, as I have said, there are elements of noble- 
ness in this latter-day humanitarianism. Beneath its as- 
sumption that the whole life of Christendom has been but 



126 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

a prolonged delusion, and life and immortality in Christ 
but an idea with which the human mind has for centuries 
been dazzled, may be read what may be spoken of as an 
assertion from the sceptical side, of the divine possibili- 
ties existing in human nature. Much that has of late 
been written by men of humanitarian views involves a 
recognition of the truth " that through the ages one in- 
creasing purpose runs," that the human mind has been 
gradually gaining a surer grasp of ideas which prompt to 
nobler action, that the longing for higher culture has been 
deepening and strengthening itself, and that, as far as the 
only life to which heed can be given by humanitarians is 
concerned, men have been living with their loins more 
resolutely girt, and their lamps more brightly burning \ 
living with more earnestness of aim, and with a keener 
desire to partake of the heritage of thought bequeathed to 
them by generations past. But the finer spirits of Chris- 
tendom are now asserting just as emphatically the like 
belief in the progressive life of humanity. They are 
boldly proclaiming their conviction that humanity in all 
its higher aims is divinely aided • that in every human 
excellence we may read a verification of the old assertion 
that God created man in his own image ; that, indeed, the 
higher life of humanity — its strivings after wisdom, its 
self-sacrificing love — is a continuous revelation to the 
world of the Divine, whose union with the human in 
Christ is the foreshadowing of the final union of the Divine 
with humanity redeemed and sanctified. In the Chris- 
tian system, as it is expounded by the most catholic- 
hearted divines of the day, the fullest recognition is given 



PERMANENCE OF LOVE. 127 

of the essential divineness of the drama of human his- 
tory and civilization. 

my friends ! let us cling to the faith of our fathers. 
Let us cherish all the hopes that have sprung up within 
the human breast since the teachings of Christ began to 
spread through the world. Let us cling fast to our hopes 
of immortality. Let us live ever conscious that we bear 
within us, each of us, an immortal spirit ; that the Lord 
of heaven and earth has access to our spiritual natures by 
means of his own Divine Spirit \ that the search for divine 
truth is not a hopeless one ; that by a life of love, and of 
resignation to the divine will, M r e shall so grow into union 
with the Divine as to be prepared to receive the whisper- 
ings of divine wisdom, and to enter upon that growth in 
divine knowledge, in heavenly truth, which shall be con- 
tinued in the endless life upon which all our hopes are 
fixed. 



XXI. 

3E>r$teentf] Dap of ILcttt* 
PERMANENCE OF LOVE. 

REV. EX-CHANCELLOR LIPSCOMB, LL.D. 
Charity never faileth. — 1 Cor. xiii. 8. 

Why is it that the numerous objects around us are 
transient ? On every side they appeal to us, connect 
themselves with hope and fear, enter into our business, 



128 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

awaken enterprise and ambition, and even inspire ardent 
love ; yet they are ever passing away. Now, there must 
be a discipline in all this, and Christianity assures us what 
it means. It is that we may be trained, in the midst of 
evanescence, for that which is permanent. And this pre- 
supposes that there is not only an immortal soul in man, 
but that, by reason of his present organization and its rela- 
tions, certain of his functions and acquirements are purely 
temporary, while others are to live forever. In fact, 
there are functions and acquirements which do not wait 
for the death of the body. They fulfil their purpose and 
expire long before age overtakes us. Yet, says Words- 
worth, — 

"Not for this 
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur : other gifts 
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe 
Abundant recompense." 

It is in the spirit of a true and noble Christian philosophy 
that this great moral poet of the century sees no cause to 
"mourn nor murmur," because our nature has a rejecting 
instinct, which, as God ordains, throws off and leaves be- 
hind it tastes and habits that were once very useful as 
well as precious. Keeping in mind, then, that this re- 
jecting instinct is an organic part of our constitution, and 
has its allotted functions to discharge, we can appreciate 
all the more St. Paul's line of thought in the closing 
verses of this chapter. "Love never faileth" Its exist- 
ence, activity, manifestation, will be perpetuated. The 
wonderful spiritual gifts of which he had said so much, — 
prophecy, the ability to speak with tongues, knowledge, 



PERMANENCE OF LOVE. 129 

— these should cease to exist. Although they proceeded 
from the Holy Ghost, and were mightily instrumental for 
good in the incipient work of the Church, yet, neverthe- 
less, they were to terminate. Scaffoldings were they all, 
useful as such, subserving most important ends, but mere 
scaffoldings, that could no longer remain when the edifice 
had been finished. 

What, then, is the ideal of the Church? It is not 
splendid endowments, for they are doomed to extinction ; 
but the love "that never faileth." Whether the passing 
away of these gifts refers to the apostolic age, or to " the 
age to come," matters nothing ; since the idea of their 
discontinuation, rather than of the time it should occur, 
is foremost in St. Paul's mind. Imagine, then, his con- 
ception of love, when he could contemplate the Church 
as a vast body laying off these mighty accompaniments 
of its career, and yet, so far from being weakened, would 
be girded afresh with a power more resplendent, and dis- 
play it in a form infinitely more majestic. Disrobed of 
these habiliments, its contour would appear in the perfec- 
tion of sublimity ; its anatomy as an organism would be, 
as it were, transparent ; the whole framework, the various 
parts, the ligaments binding them together, the circulating 
life-blood, would disclose the single animating principle 
of love. 

Would it startle the Corinthians to learn that even 
knowledge should vanish away ? " We know in part, and 
we prophesy in part." All knowledge cannot be meant ; 
for love itself includes much knowledge, and, in its ab- 
sence, would be simply emotional intensity. To possess 



130 ' CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the mere faculty of knowing, would be worthless, if the 
mind could not retain the contents of knowledge, and 
make them a portion integrally of itself. What the apos- 
tle teaches is that such knowledge as stands related to 
the present state and time, and grows directly out of 
imperfect human development, and shares the condition 
of all things earthly, is short-lived, and must terminate. 
Tongues shall cease, but the gift of speech shall not be 
lost. And he explains himself by saying that the gifts 
relating to prophecy and tongues were only partial, were 
exclusively adapted to a preliminary state of experience 
and activity, and completed their purpose in a temporary 
spiritual economy. We are here under specific, no less 
than general limitations, and in certain directions we are 
restrained more than in others. What the Spirit looks to 
is not knowledge alone, but to its moral aspects as well ; 
to humility, meekness, self-abasement, when the intellect 
is strongest, freest, and boldest ; nor will he expand the 
understanding and its expressional force for their own 
sakes, but develop them only so far as subservient to an 
object higher than their immediate ends. Partial infor- 
mation, partial command of our mental faculties, partial 
uses of even the wisdom we possess, — this is the law of 
limitation and restraint, under which the complex proba- 
tion of intellect, sensibility, volition, aspiration, and out- 
ward activity, works out immeasurable results. Therefore, 
he argues, we now know and prophesy " in part ; " at the 
best, we are fragmentary and incomplete : and yet this im- 
perfection is connected with a perfect system, and leads up 
to it. The perfection will come; the existing economy 



PERMANENCE OF LOVE. 131 

is its foreshadowing ; nor could knowledge give any ra- 
tional account of itself, nor could prophecy and tongues 
vindicate their worth, if the fuller splendors, of which 
these are faint escapes of light, were not absolute cer- 
tainties of the future. Only when the " perfect is come," 
shall that which is "in part" be "done away." Institu- 
tions founded in providence, and upheld by the Spirit, 
are left to no chance or accident as to continuance, de- 
cay, extinction. God comes into them, abides, departs, 
according to the counsel of his will. If he numbers our 
days as living men, and keeps our times in his hand ; if 
only his voice says, " Return, ye children of men," — 
this is equally true of institutions. For the dead dust, 
man makes a grave \ but the life of individuals, institu- 
tions, government, society, even the Church, is in God's 
keeping, and he alone says, "Return." 

How shall St. Paul set forth the relation of the partial 
to the perfect ? A truth lacks something if it cannot be 
illustrated, and a teacher is very defective in ability when 
he cannot find a resemblance or an analogy to make his 
meaning more perspicuous and vivid. Truth and teacher 
have met in this magnificent chapter, on ground reserved, 
we may venture to say, for their special occupancy and 
companionship. The great teacher sees the sublimest 
of truths in a glowing light, and most unlike Paul would 
he be if no illustration came to hand spontaneously. Is 
there something in the more hallowed moments of the 
soul that suddenly re-instates the sense of childhood? 
" When I was a child," in the heathen city of Tarsus, the 
capital of a Roman province ; the mountains of Taurus 



132 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

and the luxuriant plain and the flowing Cydnus near by ; 
the crowded streets and gay population and excited 
groups of talkers pressing on eye and ear ; the festivals 
of paganism, the strange contrasts of these with the life 
in his Jewish home; his training under the parental roof; 
the daily reminders of the law, and the traditions of the 
Pharisees, — what thoughts were they? Only those of a 
child, understood and spoken as a child. No ordinary 
child could he have been. Providence was shaping him 
then for an apostle, so that while the holy Child Jesus was 
growing " in wisdom and stature " amid the hills of Naza- 
reth and in the nursery of the Virgin Mother's heart there 
was far away in Cilicia a boy not much younger, who was 
in rearing there, under very unlike circumstances, to be 
his chosen apostle to the Gentile world. Yet the boy 
Saul was but a child, and thought and spake " as a child." 
But is childhood disallowed and set off in sharp contrast 
with manhood ? Nay : childhood is of God no less than 
manhood, as to quality of being. What is contrasted is 
the childishness in the one case, and the perfected man- 
hood in the other. So that we suppose the apostle to 
mean that whatsoever is initial, immature, provisional, in 
the child, has been put away to make room for some- 
thing better. The better implies the good, — a childish 
good indeed, and yet a good from the hand of God, how- 
ever mixed with earthly imperfections. 

Another movement occurs in the leading thought. Can 
one think of knowledge without an involuntary recurrence 
of the symbol of light ? The symbol has quite supplanted 
the thing signified, and the enlightened man is more hon- 



PERMANENCE OF LOVE, 133 

ored than the knowing man. St. Paul proceeds to say, 
" Now we see through a glass, darkly ; " the revealed Word 
of God is conveyed to us " in symbols and words which 
but imperfectly express them " (Hodge, Delitzsch) ; and 
yet, while there is a " glass " or mirror, and the knowl- 
edge or vision of divine things is " darkly " given, there 
is a real knowledge, a true and blessed knowledge, for 
"we see." Enough is made intelligible for all the pur- 
poses of the spiritual mind, for all spiritual uses, in all? 
spiritual relationships of comprehension, conscience, voli- 
tion, affection, brotherhood ; enough for probation, re- 
sponsibility, culture, and life-time growth. What in; us. is. 
denied? Only curiosity, excessive appetencies of the- 
faculties, habits of perception and judging superinduced; 
in the intellect by the sensational portion of our nature, — 
these are denied their morbid gratification. A plethora 
of evidence is denied, that faith may have its sphere. 
Over-strength and over-constraint of motive are denied, 
that the will may be left free. Violent impulses of feeling 
are denied, that the heart may be intense without wild 
and erratic enthusiasm, treasuring its life of peaceful 
blessedness in unfathomable depths like the ocean, that 
keeps its mass of waters in the vast hollows of the globe 
and uses the hills and mountains only to shape its shores. 
On the other hand, what is granted to the mind in the 
revelation of divine truth? Such views of God in Christ 
as the soul can realize in its present condition, and thereby 
form the one master-habit of a probationary being, viz., 
How to see God in Christ. At present, we can only 
begin to see as by reflection in a mirror ; and as, in the 



134 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

education of the senses to the finer work of earthly life, 
the cultivation of the eye is the slowest and most exacting, 
the longest, the most difficult, and that too because the 
eye is the noblest of the special senses, so learn we, and 
not without much patient exertion, and oft-repeated efforts, 
to see God in Christ as made known in his gospel and 
providence and Holy Spirit. Yet the mirror trains the 
eye, and prepares it to see God through no such inter- 
vening medium. The promised vision is open, full, im- 
mediate. We shall see him "face to face" says St. Paul. 
"We shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is," 
declares St. John. And then partial knowledge shall 
expand into perfect knowledge, and we shall know after 
a new and divine manner, for nothing less than this is 
the assurance, know as we are known. 

" Glorious hymn to Christian love" as Dr. Farrar calls 
this chapter, what shall be its closing strain ? " And now 
abideth " (remains or continues), — the same duration as 
compared with the evanescence of extraordinary gifts being 
ascribed to the three, — " and now abideth faith, hope, 
love, 'these three ; and the greatest of these is love." 
Who can doubt it after reading this chapter? Here it 
stands beside the great gifts of the " tongues of men and 
of angels," and of the prophetic insight, and of miracle- 
working, and of philanthropy and martyrdom ; and, amid 
this splendid array, love is greatest. In what it does, it 
is greatest. In what it is, it is greatest. Here, finally, it is 
grouped with faith and hope, and yet the light that irra- 
diates its form and features from the glory of God in the 
face of Jesus Christ is a lustre beyond that of the other 
two, because the "greatest of these is love." 



SOJOURNING WITH GOD. 135 

XXII. 

Nineteentfj Sag of 3Lent. 
SOJOURNING WITH GOD. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 
Ye are strangers and sojourners with me. — Lev. xxv. 23. 

The chosen people are about to take possession of the 
promised land, and God is instructing them concerning 
their polity and conduct in their new home and relations. 
One of the specific directions given them is, that they 
are not to sell the land forever, because it belongs to 
him, and they are his wards — tenants at will, dwelling on 
his domain, under his patronage and protection. IJor six 
years he leased to them the land, so to say ; but every 
seventh year he reclaimed it as his own, and it was to be 
neither tilled nor sown ; and after seven such sabbatic 
years, in the fiftieth year, which was the year of jubilee, 
every thing reverted with a still more special emphasis to 
the Divine Proprietor ■ and the people were not permitted 
to reap or gather any thing that grew of itself that year 
even from the unworked soil, but were to subsist on the 
product of the former years laid up in store for that pur- 
pose. All this to teach them that the domain was Jeho- 
vah's, and they were only privileged occupants under him 
— that he was their patron, protector, benefactor, while 
they were strangers and sojourners with God. 



136 CHURCH READER EOR LENT. 

In a general sense, these sacred words describe the 
condition of all men. All live by sufferance on the 
Lord's estate, fed and sustained by his bounty. Whether 
we recognize his rights and claims or not, all we have 
belongs to him, and the continuance of every privilege 
depends upon his will. You may revolt against his 
authority, and fret at what you call fate ; but his provi- 
dence orders all, and death is only your eviction from 
the trust and tenure you have abused. What is your 
life, and what control has any man over his destiny? A 
shadow on the ground, a vapor in the air, an arrow speed- 
ing to the mark, an eagle hasting to the prey, a post 
hurrying past with despatches, a swift ship gliding out of 
sight over the misty horizon — these are the Scripture 
emblems of what we are. Every day is but a new stage 
in the pilgrim's progress — every act and every pulse 
another step toward the tomb. The frequent changes of 
fortune teach us that nothing here is certain but uncer- 
tainty, nothing constant but inconstancy, nothing real but 
unreality, nothing stable but instability. The loveliest 
spot we ever found on earth is but a halting-place for the 
traveller — an oasis for the caravan in the desert. The 
world itself, and all that it contains, present only the suc- 
cessive scenes of a moving panorama ; and our life is 
the passage of a weaver's shuttle — a flying to and fro — 
a mere coming and going — an entry and an exit. For 
we are strangers and sojourners with God. 

But what is in a general sense thus true of all, is in a 
special sense true of the spiritual and heavenly-minded. 



SOJOURNING WITH GOD, 137 

As Abraham was a stranger and a sojourner with the 
Canaanite and the Egyptian — as Jacob and his sons were 
strangers and sojourners with Pharaoh, and the fugitive 
David with the king of Gath — so all godly people ac- 
knowledge themselves strangers and sojourners with God. 
This is the picture of the Christian life that better than 
almost any other expresses the condition and experiences 
of our Lord's faithful followers — not at home here — ever 
on the move — living among aliens and enemies — subject 
to many privations and occasional persecutions — every 
morning hearing afresh the summons, " Arise ye and 
depart, for this is not your rest" — practically confess- 
ing, with patriarchs and prophets, apostles and martyrs, 
"Here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to 
come." The world knew not their Master, and knows not 
them. If they were of the world, the world would love 
its own ; because they are not of the world, but he has 
chosen them out of the world, therefore the world hateth 
them. Wholly of another character — another profession 
— another pursuit — aiming at other ends, and cheered 
by other hopes — the carnal, selfish, unbelieving world 
cannot possibly appreciate them, and they are constantly 
misunderstood and misrepresented by the world. Re- 
garding not the things which are seen and temporal, but 
the things which are unseen and eternal, they are often 
stigmatized as fools and denounced as fanatics. Far dis- 
tant from their home, and surrounded by those who have 
no sympathy with them, they show their heavenly citizen- 
ship by heavenly tempers, heavenly manners, heavenly 
conversation, all hallowed by the spirit of holiness. So 



138 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

one of the Fathers in the second century describes the 
Christians of his time : 

" They occupy their own native land, but as pilgrims 
in it. They bear all as citizens, and forbear all as for- 
eigners. Every foreign land is to them a fatherland, and 
every fatherland is foreign. They are in the flesh, but 
they walk not after the flesh. They live on earth, but 
they are citizens of heaven. They die, but with death 
their true life begins. Poor themselves, they make many 
rich ; destitute, they have all things in abundance ; de- 
spised, they are glorified in contempt. In a word — what 
the soul is in the body, Christians are in the world. The 
soul inhabits the body, but is not derived from it ; and 
Christians dwell in the world, but are not of it. The 
immortal soul sojourns in a mortal tent ; and Christians 
inhabit a perishable house, while looking for an imperish- 
able in heaven." 

To such heavenly-mindedness, my dear brethren, we 
all are called ; and without something of this spirit, what- 
ever our professions and formalities, we do but belie the 
name of Christian. " If ye then be risen with Christ, 
seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth 
on the right hand of God ; set your affections on things 
above, not on things on the earth ; for ye are dead, and 
your life is hid with Christ in God ; when Christ who is 
our life shall appear, then shall we also appear with him 
in glory." 

Bowed down with many a burden, and weary because 
of the way, how much is there to cheer and comfort us 



SOJOURNING WITH GOD, 139 

in God's good word to his suffering pilgrims — "Ye are 
strangers and sojourners with me " ! 

There is the idea of friendly recognition. As the 
nomad chief receives the tourist into his tent, and assures 
him of his favor by the "covenant of salt;" so God 
hath made with us an everlasting covenant of grace, 
ordered in all things and sure ; since which, he can never 
disown us, never forsake us, never forget us, never cease 
to care for his own. 

There is the idea of pleasant communion. As in the 
Arab tent, between the sheik and his guest, there is a 
free interchange of thought and feeling ; so between 
God and the regenerate soul a sweet fellowship is estab- 
lished, with perfect access and unreserved confidence. 
"The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him," and 
his delight is in his saints, who are the excellent of the 
earth. 

There is the idea of needful refreshment. "Turn in 
and rest a little," saith the patriarch to the wayfarers; 
and then brings forth bread and wine — the best that his 
store affords — to cheer their spirits and revive their 
strength. God spreads a table for his people in the wil- 
derness. With angels' food he feeds them, and their cup 
runs over with blessing. He gives them to eat of the 
hidden manna, and restores their fainting souls with the 
new wine of the kingdom. 

There is the idea of faithful protection. The Arab 
who has eaten with you will answer for your safety with 
his own life, and so long as you remain with him none 
of his tribe shall harm a hair of your head. Believer in 



140 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

Jesus ! do you not dwell in the secret place of the Most 
High, and abide under the shadow of the Almighty? 
Has he not shut you, like Noah, into the ark of your 
salvation? Is not David's rock your rock, your fortress, 
your high tower, and unfailing city of refuge ? 

There is the idea of infallible guidance. The Oriental 
host will not permit his guest to set forth alone, but goes 
with him on every new track, grasps his hand in every 
steep ascent, and holds him back from the brink of every 
precipice. God said to Israel : " I will send my angel 
before thy face, to lead thee in the way, and bring thee 
into the land whither thou goest." Yea, he said more : 
" My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee 
rest." Both promises are ours, my brethren ; and some- 
thing better than the pillar of cloud and fire, or the mani- 
fest glory of the resident God upon the mercy-seat, 
marches in the van of his pilgrim host through the wil- 
derness, and will never leave us till the last member of 
his redeemed Israel shall have passed clean over Jordan ! 

There is the idea of a blessed destiny. Their divine 
Guide is leading them " to a good land, that floweth 
with milk and honey " — "to a city of habitation " — "a 
city that hath foundations, whose builder and maker is 
God," — "a house not made with hands, eternal, in the 
heavens," — the Father's house of " many mansions," 
where Christ is now as he promised preparing a place 
for his people, and where they are at last to be with 
him and behold his glory. Oh ! with what a sweet and 
restful confidence should we dismiss our groundless fears 
of the future, saying with the Psalmist — "Thou shalt 



SOJOURNING WITH GOD. 141 

guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to 
glory ! " The pilgrim has a home ; the weary has a rest- 
ing-place ; the wanderer in the wilderness is a " fellow- 
citizen with the saints and of the household of faith ; " 
and often have we seen him in the evening twilight, after 
a long day's march over stony mountain and sultry plain, 
sitting at the door of the tent just pitched for the night, 
with calm voice singing : 

" One sweetly solemn thought 

Comes to me o'er and o'er — 
I'm nearer to my home to-night 

Than e'er I was before — 
Nearer the bound of life, 

Where falls my burden down — 
Nearer to where I leave my cross, 

And where I take my crown ! " 

and with the next rising sun, like a giant refreshed with 
new wine, joyfully resuming his journey, from the first 
eminence attained gazing a moment through his glass at 
the distant glory of the gold-and-crystal city, then bound- 
ing forward, and making the mountains ring with the 

strain : 

" There is my house and portion fair, 
My treasure and my heart are there, 

And my abiding home ; 
For me my elder brethren stay, 
And angels beckon me away, 

And Jesus bids me come ! " 

The saintly Monica, after many years of weeping at 
the nail-pierced feet, has at length received the answer 
to her prayers in the conversion of one dearer to her 



142 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

than life ; and is now ready, with good old Simeon, to 
depart in peace, having seen the salvation of the Lord : 
" As for me, my son, nothing in this world hath longer 
any charm for me. What I do here, or why I should 
remain, I know not. But one wish I had, and that God 
has abundantly granted me. Bury me where thou wilt, 
for nowhere am I far from God." 

Dark to some of you, O ye strangers and sojourners 
with God ! may be the valley of the shadow of death ; 
but ye cannot perish there, for He whose fellowship is 
immortality is still with you, and you shall soon be with 
him as never before ! Black and cold at your feet rolls 
the river of terrors ; but lift your eyes a little, and you 
see gleaming through the mist the pearl-gates beyond ! 
There " the Captain of the Lord's host" is already pre- 
paring your escort ! 

" Even now is at hand 

The angelical band — 

The convoy attends — 
An invincible troop of invisible friends ! 

Ready winged for their flight 

To the regions of light, 

The horses are come — 
The chariots of Israel to carry us home ! " 



CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 143 

XXIII. 

BEfoentfetfj Dag of %tnU 

CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 

REV. F. C. EWER, S.T.D. 
Follow me. — Matt. xvi. 24. 

Fitting words for meditation for those who are trying 
to walk in the conformative way that belongs to Mid- 
Lent 1 who, having considered and repented of their sins, 
look to Jesus that they may catch somewhat of the spirit 
of his character, and conform their own lives to it, — 
" Follow me." 

We are so familiar from earliest childhood with the 
facts of Jesus' life, and with his sayings, that it is difficult 
for us to realize their grandeur and beauty. Something 
exceptional affects us more than something vastly more 
sublime. This is of daily occurrence ; we are more 
amazed at a meteor than at the mighty ceaseless floods 
of light outpouring everywhere from the sun. And the 
preacher's task is the most difficult of human work. The 
journalist cannot keep up public interest in an event 
beyond a week or two ; he is but a follower of public 
interest, not a creator of it. The orator only speaks 
occasionally on some new burning theme. But the 
preacher's exceptional task is to take the thousand-told 
tale, and tell it over again \ to create interest in that which 



144 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

is utterly familiar ; to put freshness into the stale, and to 
iterate and re-iterate his task year after year. The won- 
der is not that so many fail, but that all*do not. Help 
the preacher, then, yourselves. Jesus says, " Follow me." 

Take those two words, and think upon them. Is there 
anybody in earnest here ? If so, will you, my people, do 
one thing for me this week every day, — nay, one thing 
for yourselves, — take these two words three times each 
day, at morning, noon, and night, and think on them for 
the space of a minute each t ; me? 

I wish to put three thoughts unto your minds. And 
the first is this : Christianity is a human being. 

Spinoza conceived of and described pantheism. Though 
false, as a mere intellectual effort it was grand. If the 
works containing the system had been published anony- 
mously, and Spinoza had died and his name had remained 
unknown, we should have lost nothing, — we should have 
had the system entire. The great question with ancient 
intelligence was how to secure happiness and successful 
existence as creatures, — whether we should live accord- 
ing to the highest exercise of reason, or the best exercise 
of the affections or of the will. Plato conceived a grand 
philosophy of life based on reason ; Zeno, a grand system 
based on the will ; Epicurus, a grand system based on the 
best exercise of the affections. They were all three noble 
schemes. But if the systems alone had come down to us, 
and their authors had sunk into forgetfulness, the systems 
would not have been marred. Each can exist separate 
from its creator, and stand complete in itself. But it is 
not so with Christianity. There is no Christianity with- 



CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 145 

out Christ. He is its inner energy. He is the thing we 
see through his teachings. His character, his purity, his 
meekness, — we cannot see and feel and realize his teach- 
ings separate from himself. He is Christianity. Chris- 
tianity is a human being. We can understand the Stoic 
philosophy, the Peripatetic, and the philosophy of the 
Academy, without Zeno or Aristotle or Plato ; but we can- 
not understand Christianity without understanding Christ. 
We can practise the inductive philosophy without possess- 
ing one particle of the abject meanness or despicable 
characteristics of Lord Bacon ; but one cannot be a Chris- 
tian by merely believing in Christian doctrines, one can- 
not be a Christian without possessing the spirit of Christ. 
But you will say, Christ, though possessing human na- 
ture, was not personally human. In person he was 
divine, — the Son of God, God the Son, God himself. 
I can understand a man, but do you tell me I cannot 
understand Christianity without understanding Christ? 
How can I comprehend God ? Indeed it is true that he 
stands before us clothed in consummate dignity. But I 
venture to say, — and this is the second thought I give 
you, — that, if Jesus be God, God then is more easily 
comprehended than man. In the first place, women are 
often an enigma to men, and I suppose that men are 
equally an enigma to women. And it is very certain that 
men are often an enigma to each other. There is a great 
deal of good in every man and every woman, and there 
is a great deal of bad in every man and every woman ; 
and so it follows that all our acts and words lie rooted 
back in a very complicated soil of mixed motives. And 



146 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

it is the most difficult of all things to read each other 
thoroughly on this account. But Jesus Christ was with- 
out sin. And there is nothing so transparent as single- 
ness of purpose, and truth, and purity, and meekness, and 
bravery, and honesty, and unselfishness. Sincerity is per- 
fectly intelligible. And there is no man living, or that ever 
has lived, so easily comprehended as Jesus Christ. 

Thus if Christianity is to be accepted, and if there is 
no Christianity without Christ, if he is its heart and soul 
and nucleus and life — if it is a mere empty shell without 
him, then he and his character all being transparent are 
calculated to take hold on all grades of life, philosopher 
and herd, prince and peasant, ancient and modern, bar- 
barian and enlightened. " Follow me." But you will say, 
I can follow some man who is a little better than I am. 
But Jesus Christ was perfect, — he was God. Very well, 
then ; and this is the third thought that I would suggest 
to you. We were made to be like God. There are, it is 
true, grades of creatures in existence. It were useless for 
the stone to strive to be like the tree, or the tree to strive 
to be like the lion. And though there be the distinct 
grades of men, angels, archangels, cherubim, and even 
God, yet mind, intelligence, all belongs to one family. 
Affection is the same all the way up. If I love, it may 
be infinitely little in comparison with God's love, but it 
is a drop out of the same ocean. If I have a sense of 
justice, if I have a feeling of mercy, or do an act of for- 
giveness, it is the same in quality all the way up to God. 
[ do not belong alone to the human family ; I belong to 
the one great family of intelligence which includes even 



THE CARNAL MIND. 147 

God himself; I am made in the image of God, and there 
is nothing in Jesus Christ of which we have not springs 
and principles in ourselves. And God speaks to us, 
" Follow me!" 

Nor could we follow him, were it not that you were 
made capable of indefinite expansion, endless unfolding 
and development. Alas ! indefinite expansion downward 
as well as upward ! If we look down at that unfolding in 
sin and misery, for ever and ever — Oh, clcse the great 
doors upon the scene ! But when we look up — Ah ! 
what is expansion? A tree, a seed. Now, when I add 
the factor of infinity to the developing, my mind refuses 
to take in the thought : but I begin to comprehend the 
design of my being ; a great hope is born within me \ and 
I begin, too, to understand what God means when he 
lovingly bends to me, and whispers the words to my deep- 
est soul, " Follow thou me ! " 



XXIV. 

aCforntg^first Sag of 3Lent. 
THE CARNAL MIND. 

REV. J. W. PARKER, A.M. 

Because the carnal mind is enmity against God : for it is not subject to 
the law of God, neither indeed can be. So then they that are in the 
flesh cannot please God. — Rom. viii. 7, 8. 

We are taught by the Apostle St. Paul in this passage, 
that there is between the carnal mind and God an irrec- 



148 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

oncilable enmity. How needful, then, is it for all who 
wish to be not at enmity but at peace with God, to know 
what the apostle means by the carnal mind ! It would 
be a worthy employment of Lent, to try to understand 
what is meant by a carnal mind, that we may more 
effectually, both now and at all times, guard ourselves 
against it. We may learn, perhaps, thus better to under- 
stand why there should be such a season as Lent, and to 
what practical uses we may turn our Lenten devotions 
and observances. 

We may be able thereby to gain a more thorough 
conviction how entirely God would have us to belong to 
himself, when we understand that it is not what we do 
alone in outward action that he would control, but that 
it is our mind which he would have to be one with his 
mind. We shall begin to see that even all triumphs over 
special temptations, in which we give evidence of a de- 
sire so far of pleasing God, must yet not be altogether 
depended upon. They must be used as encouragements 
indeed to persevere in the work of completely subjecting 
our minds to the mind of God, not complacently re- 
garded as proofs that we have already accomplished this 
subjection. We have to remember that we are, and shall 
be till death, upon our trial what we shall admire, love, 
earnestly long for, will to do, and actually do. We have 
to choose, not merely once for all, but day by day, what 
shall be the prevailing motive in our actions. It is what 
St. Paul here calls the " mind," which is called upon to 
undergo this trial and to make this choice. The carnal 
mind chooses in one way, the spiritual mind chooses in 



THE CARNAL MIND. 149 

another. Are we then, we ought to be repeatedly asking 
ourselves, doing our utmost that the mind which is within 
us should be not carnal, but spiritual? Are we making 
the mistake of striving to please God without giving our- 
selves the trouble to know what is the real bent of the 
mind which is in us? Would it not be well to be strict 
and severe in our self-questioning, when there is an evi- 
dent possibility of such mistake, when we may be pre- 
suming that we are pleasing God, but the mind which is 
in us may be a carnal mind, and so be at enmity with 
him ? 

There does not appear to be any doubt as to the apos- 
tle's meaning when he speaks of the carnal mind. He 
cannot mean any other than a "mind" guided and de- 
termined by "carnal" or fleshly influences; a " mind " 
which does not recognize the duty of commanding and 
restraining all impulses of the " flesh," and becomes, 
instead of a ruler, a slave ; a " mind " which may lead 
those whom it possesses into all shameful excesses and 
wickednesses; a "mind" which, in pursuing its own 
lawless cravings, ceases to recognize its own dignity, 
much less the heavenly calling which God has set forth 
as the true end of all man's desires. 

But yet there is in the apostle's words what may sug- 
gest doubt if they be not carefully weighed : "The carnal 
mind is enmity against God ; it is not subject to the law 
of God." But the apostle adds, "neither indeed can 
be." And again, as if to give increased emphasis to his 
words, he adds, "So they that are in the flesh cannot 
please God." 



ISO CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

Now, it is plain that if we attach one meaning to these 
words, — which indeed they might possibly bear, taken 
alone, — there is an end to our consideration of this sub- 
ject ; that is, if the apostle meant that the carnal mind 
could not (in any way) become subject to the law of 
God, or that they that are in the flesh could not (in any 
way) learn to please God, there could be no practical 
inferences as to conduct drawn from his words. No man 
can fight against impossibilities. No one would attempt 
to alter his way of life, and to change his mind from too 
great an attachment to the things of sense, if at the 
outset he were assured that it was impossible to succeed. 
Men so enslaved to the things of sense are too ready to 
urge for their own excuse, that they cannot change, so 
that it would seem quite contrary to the apostle's design 
to uphold this excuse ; yea, even to suggest it. 

The meaning of the apostle may, then, safely be said 
not to be, that in no way can the carnal mind become 
subject to the law of God ; for it can truly become sub- 
ject to that law, by ceasing to be a carnal mind, and so 
becoming a spiritual mind. They, again, who are in the 
flesh, and while so in it are unable to please God, may 
yet find a way, short of self-destruction, not to be in the 
flesh, and thus learn how to please him. It is the way 
of the mortification .of all evil desires of the flesh, so 
that they should no longer assume the mastery, and 
decide what shall be the tone and character of a man's 
life and actions. This is forcibly put by St. Paul in this 
same part of his Epistle to the Romans : " Therefore, 
brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after 



THE CARNAL MIND. 151 

the flesh. For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die : 
but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the 
body, ye shall live." 

From these words, then, we learn very distinctly that 
there is no impossibility in the work of destroying the 
carnal mind within us ; but, nevertheless, that the task 
is one of great difficulty, and only not impossible because 
the work is God's work, the work of the Holy Spirit of 
God. Though that work is done with, and not without 
and against, man's will, yet does it still remain no less 
God's work. Where the difficulty lies is the reluctance 
of man's will so to work with God, the struggle of the 
carnal mind within against annihilation ; that state which 
is so forcibly described by the apostle in the seventh 
chapter of this epistle, and in which there may be a full 
acknowledgment of what is right, but an inability to do 
it. " For I delight in the law of God after the inward 
man : but I see another law in my members, warring 
against the law of my mind, and bringing me into cap- 
tivity to the law of sin which is in my members." 

This is why too often unhappy men who have fallen 
under the temptations of strong drink find the struggle 
too much for them. They cannot resist. They cannot 
even exert their will to seek by prayer for God's strength 
to help their weakness. They can do nothing but yield 
to the evil habit which is dragging them to destruction 
in body and soul. The carnal mind is a ruling principle, 
fighting against God within their souls, and even against 
their will they must needs obey. 

What, again, is it but this carnal mind which persuades 



152 . CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

so many to forget God? Sins of the shameful sort may 
be shunned, but yet God is not remembered. It would 
seem that the fear of being committed to the perform- 
ance of unwelcome duties keeps away numbers from 
God. When I say, keeps them away from God, do not 
let me be misunderstood as saying or implying that men 
can really keep away from him, or escape from obliga- 
tions by resolving not to own them. They cannot do 
this, but they can deceive themselves into believing that 
they can ; and this is what the carnal mind is constantly 
persuading them to do. They can, through sloth and 
indifference, put away God from their thoughts. They 
can systematically shun God's house, and never pray to 
God even when they are alone in their chambers. They 
can be also a fearful hinderance to those about them, wife 
and children, and all who are any way influenced by 
them ; tempting them, if not by their words, yet by their 
example, to forget God. Children sometimes become 
better than their parents ; but, sadly too often, they be- 
come worse. They contract bad habits before they know 
the sin of what they are doing. They run into danger- 
ous circumstances and situations, with no warning voice 
from father or mother ; .or, if they are warned by them, 
how are the warnings given enfeebled by this fatal defect ! 
They are not the warnings of those who show by their 
own words and actions that they themselves are at least 
trying to do their duty to God and their neighbor : they 
are but the words of those who advise others to do what 
they themselves studiously refrain from doing. 

If, then, it be true that results so evil ensue upon 



THE CARNAL MIND. 153 

leaving what St. Paul calls "the carnal mind" to prevail 
over us, it is but reasonable that we should strive to use 
all approved means to counteract those evils, and to con- 
vert that carnal mind into a spiritual mind. 

Consider, then, are there any more reasonable means 
than those which are plainly set before us in Holy Scrip- 
ture? If St. Paul is not mistaken, the "mind" that 
should be spiritual becomes carnal by yielding to the 
temptations of the flesh. Surely, then, if the flesh must 
be subdued, it must be subdued by obvious means, — by 
steadfastly resisting its tendencies towards unlawful indul- 
gences. And the discipline which is needful to correct 
excess is not to be dispensed with in order to preserve 
a mastery already won. If St. Paul found it needful to 
use such discipline, who are we to say that in our case 
it is not needful? Who are we that should maintain that 
we can without care and without discipline maintain with- 
in a spiritual mind, free from all danger from temptation 
on the side of our fleshly nature? 

If, again, the influence of the carnal mind has mani- 
fested itself, not so much in fleshly indulgence as in 
indifference to religious truth, testified by neglect of 
God's worship, and a banishment from the mind of all 
thoughts of, eternity, is it an unreasonable remedy to 
propose some certain, definite, regular acts of worship, 
and acknowledgment of God? What could be proposed 
more reasonable? I presume, of course, a belief in God, 
and a certain feeble desire to own him. Merely to wish 
or even to intend to be better, never in itself makes a 
man better. There must be action, or all will be of no 



154 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

avail. We must bring thoughts of God before our minds, 
the thought of his existence, of his power, of his holiness, 
and, above all, of his love to us in Christ Jesus our Lord, 
regularly, and train ourselves to act as if these were 
truths of infinite moment to us : or otherwise we shall 
not subdue the carnal mind within • we shall fail of 
ever attaining that great gift of God, to be not carnally 
but spiritually minded, and so to have life in him. We 
shall be led inevitably to choose death instead of life, 
— the never-ending death instead of everlasting life in 
body and soul. So momentous are the issues which 
depend upon our choice now. So critical is the condi- 
tion of those who live as though there were no account 
to be given how their life is spent ! 



XXV. 

2Etx!entg=seconti ©ag of 3Lent, 
NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 
He found nothing but leaves. — Mark xi. 13. 

The miracles of Jesus were unspoken sermons. Each 
work of power which he wrought was intended as a lesson 
for the soul. Thus, when he turned the water into wine 
at Cana, it was not merely an act of kindness to supply 
a want : it was a lesson ; it taught that " man's extremity 
is God's opportunity ; " and, more, it taught that Jesus 



NO THING BUT LEA VES. 1 5 5 

only can change the weakness of our nature into strength. 
So, when he opened a blind man's eyes, it was not merely 
an act of mercy to the suffering : it was a lesson teaching 
all men that Jesus only can open the eyes of those whom 
sin has blinded, so that they may see their sin, and repent 
them of the evil. When the dead were raised, his glorious 
assurance was given that whosoever believeth in Jesus, 
the resurrection and the life, shall never die. So it is 
with the miracle recorded in the text. Je^us sees a fig- 
tree growing by the wayside, and full of leaves ; he draws 
near, and looks for fruit, and finds none, " nothing but 
leaves." He curses the fruitless tree, and it withers away. 
This, we must believe, was a symbolical act, a solemn 
sermon, for those standing by. In the first instance, the 
lesson was intended for the Jewish nation. The Jews 
were full of the leaves of profession ; they were proud of 
their religious ordinances, their frequent fasts, their long 
prayers, their sacrifices : but they bore no fruit. There 
was the gorgeous ceremonial of the temple, its altars 
smoking with incense, and dripping with the blood of 
victims ; there was the law, strictly observed and harshly 
enforced ; and with all this there was no fruit of holiness, 
of meekness, of gentleness, of love. The wounded travel- 
ler lay by the way, and the priest and the Levite passed 
him by. The Pharisee went up into the temple to pray, 
and he thanked God that he was better than his neighbor. 
The Jew gave alms in charity, and called on all men to 
witness his liberality. In all this there was "nothing but 
leaves." But that act of Jesus had a yet wider signifi- 
cance : it was a lesson for all time, and for all people ; it 



156 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

is a lesson for you and for me, warning us of the doom 
of a fruitless life. As we look back along the path of our 
life, we see it strewed thickly with blessings. There is the 
spot where God saved us from a great danger ; there is 
the place where he sent us an unexpected bounty ; there 
is the time when he forgave us our great sin. Look where 
we may, however rough our path may have been, how- 
ever closely hedged in by the thorns of trouble, we shall 
see blessings there, blooming like roses among the thorns. 
We forget this too often; we forget how unceasing is 
God's care for us. Every breath which we draw is fraught 
with danger ; disease hangs in the air around us ; the 
germ of death lurks in the water; we cannot mount a 
horse, or enter a railway-carriage, without incurring a great 
risk : and yet through all God hath holden us up. Surely 
" the goodness of God leadeth us to repentance,' , for what 
have we done to deserve all this? 

What have we done for God? There is childhood 
with its play, there is youth with its dreams, there is man- 
hood with its work : what have we done for God ? Ah ! 
in too many cases we see life's pathway strewed with the 
leaves of wasted opportunities, and neglected chances, 
and duties left undone. 

Some of you have a diary in which you write down the 
daily events of your life. There you can read a record 
of that business which you transacted, or the date when 
you made that money, or lost that money ; you can know 
exactly what you owe to others, and what others owe to 
you. But where is the entry of what you owe God? You 
know exactly the year when your crops were abundant ; 



N O THING BUT LEA VES. 1 5 7 

but do you remember whether you kneeled down, and 
thanked God for making them so ? Whilst you were for- 
getting him, he was not forgetting you. His hand was 
stretched out to turn aside that calamity ; his hand was 
there to comfort when the sorrow came. Look into your 
diary or memorandum-book again. There is your list of 
engagements for business or pleasure : there is the entry 
of to-morrow's appointment, of next week's amusement. 
But is there no entry of that appointment which we must 
all keep, no warning line to remind us to prepare to meet 
our God, no line to whisper, " The time is short ; what 
hast thou done ? Consider thy ways, for God shall bring 
every work into judgment, whether it be good or whether 
it be evil"? We all remember what we have done for 
ourselves, — how we have made our way in the world : 
let us try to remember whether we have done any thing 
for God. Have our lives been fruitful in good works? If 
you plant a tree, you look for fruit. God has placed us 
in the world, and he looks for fruit. My brethren, of how 
many of your lives is the sad record written in heaven, 
" Nothing but leaves " ? 

"The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long- 
suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temper- 
ance." What do we know of these ? Here is a man who 
calls himself a Christian, who goes to church, who says 
his prayers, who thinks himself a good man : yet, if you 
speak to him of a neighbor, his eyes flash ; he- tells you 
that he hates him, that he would do any thing to injure 
him. Yet he calls himself by the name of Him who 
prayed for his murderers. " Nothing but leaves." Here is 



158 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

a woman who goes to church, having a gorgeously-bound 
Prayer-book. She has been calling herself " a miserable 
sinner " with her lips, but where have her thoughts been? 
Concentrated on a neighbor's dress, or on the last arrrival 
in church. When the general confession was said, when 
we confessed that we had erred and strayed from God's 
ways like lost sheep, where were her thoughts then? 
Hardly with her sins, for she was whispering to a friend, 
or adjusting her dress. When the absolution for sin was 
solemnly pronounced, her head was not bowed in peni- 
tence : she was thinking of to-morrow's amusement, and 
so missed the place in her Prayer-book. And yet she 
will tell you that she came to church to worship God. 
" Nothing but leaves." Here is a man whom the world 
calls respectable, who occupies a prominent place in 
church, to whom people look up as a model of orthodoxy 
on Sunday. But what of him on Monday? Go forth 
into the haunts of business, and ask him if the holy words 
spoken on Sunday are in tune with the words or works of 
Monday ; and you will be forced to echo sadly what the 
angels are saying sadly in heaven, — "Nothing but leaves." 
This is a serious matter for us all. If our lives have 
hitherto been fruitless in good works, shall we not now 
ask God of his mercy to pardon the many fruitless years 
which are gone, and to spare us a little while that we may 
amend our lives ? Shall we not ask him to give us yet 
another chance before that awful sentence goes forth, 
"Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground?" that we 
may bring forth the fruit of a holy life to the praise and 
glory of his holy name ? 



MISERICORDIA. 159 



XXVI. 

jfaurtlj Siinbag fa 3Lent 
MISERICORDIA. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 
The Lord is plenteous in mercy. — Ps. ciii. 8. 

In the sacred canticles of the tuneful son of Jesse, how 
often are we delighted and transported with some strangely 
beautiful expression, opening to us a new insight of our 
heavenly Father's heart ! David seems to have had larger 
experience and better appreciation of the Divine mercy 
t than any other man of God's peculiarly favored people ; 
and therefore he was able to celebrate its glories and set 
forth its mighty achievements in strains surpassing those 
of all other saints and prophets. Yet even David, when 
he tunes his harp to this transcendent theme, seems 
baffled and bewildered amidst the heights and depths, 
the lengths and breadths, which open before him ; and 
the heavenly inspiration of his muse appears to labor for 
language and illustration, to convey to others his own 
impressions of what he feels to be beyond all power of 
utterance. Take this simple statement: "The Lord is 
plenteous in mercy." 

The term "mercy" is derived from misericordia ; a 
compound of miserans — pitying, and co?' — the heart; 
or misei-ia cordis — pain of heart. In application to 



160 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

Jehovah, then, it means the pity — the pain of his heart 
for the guilty, the helpless, the perishing. In no human 
language is there a word of richer import. It is sweeter 
than sympathy, more tender than charity, and lies deeper 
than the fountain of tears. Yet it is too poor to express 
the feeling of our heavenly Father toward his earthly off- 
spring. The inspired writers adopt a variety of expedients 
to heighten its signification. Sometimes they connect an 
epithet with it, and we read of his "great mercy," "ten- 
der mercy," "loving mercy," "abundant mercy," "ever- 
lasting mercy." Sometimes they couple another term 
with it, and we have "mercy and grace," "mercy and 
truth," "mercy and goodness," "mercy and judgment," 
"mercy and compassion." Sometimes they employ the 
plural form . " mercies " — to indicate the frequency, the 
variety, the endless modifications and adaptations, of 
this most engaging trait of the Divine character. Then 
the plural is intensified in the phrase "manifold mercies," 
giving the idea of mercies wrapped up in mercies, a thou- 
sand contained in one. At last enumeration is outdone 
in "the multitude of his mercies" — mercies numberless, 
thronging upon mercies unnumbered — a host to which 
the stars of heaven multiplied by all their beams of light 
could scarcely furnish a competent arithmetic. The apos- 
tle calls Jehovah " the God and Father of all mercies," 
because he rejoiceth in his mercies as a father in his 
children ; and tells us that " he is rich in mercy to all 
that call upon him," because no monarch ever dispensed 
his bounty so freely ; and, though infinite in capacity, 
"full of mercy" — full as the ocean is of water, as the 



MISERICORDIA. 161 

atmosphere of light. One of the prophets declares that 
" he delighteth in mercy " — as if its exercise were his 
supreme enjoyment ; and another exclaims, " Oh ! how 
great is his mercy ! " — as if no words were adequate to 
its expression ; while the royal Psalmist sets " his mercy 
above the heavens," and adorns his sacred lyrics with the 
frequent refrain — " His mercy endureth forever ! " 

But none of these forms is more emphatic or more 
beautiful than this in our text — " plenteous in mercy." 
A plenty is more than enough. The Divine mercy exceeds 
human necessity — more than enough for all our sins and 
sorrows — more than enough for present want and eternal 
supply. There is an exuberance of mercy, which no 
language can describe, nor imagination conceive. It 
speaks in ancient prophecy, glows in the Gospel narrative, 
teems in the apostolic epistles, encircles with a living 
halo the manger and the cross, brightens the path of the 
Church through all her pilgrimage of tears, sprinkles with 
celestial dew the blessed brow of infancy at the font, 
spreads with more than angels' food the eucharistic feast 
for the faithful, sheds the morning light of immortality 
into the valley of the shadow of death, garnishes with all 
manner of precious stones the golden architecture of the 
New Jerusalem, flashes in the many-starred diadems, of 
the redeemed cast down at the feet of the Lamb, and 
rings out forever in the choral harmony of the white- 
robed myriads around the sapphire throne ! 

More than enough ! And after we have been pardoned 
and restored, redeemed and delivered, revived and puri- 
fied, succored and comforted, a thousand thousand times, 



1 62 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

there is still enough and to spare. And when all the 
saints, raised from the dust of death, and glorified to- 
gether with their Lord, shall have found in his presence 
their fulness of joy, and in his likeness their perfect satis- 
faction, there shall still remain a plenitude — an infinite 
reserve — of mercy in the heart of God. And if there 
are other fallen worlds to share with us the supply, and 
if half the countless orbs that float in the far immensity 
are as full of sin and suffering as our own, yet is there 
enough for all the wants and woes of their incalculable 
and inconceivable population. It is a fountain which the 
universe can never exhaust, an ocean which eternity alone 
can measure. An angel's line cannot fathom the abyss ; 
an angel's wing cannot compass the infinitude. The 
pleroma of light is also the plei'otna of love ; and it 
requires the mind of God, to know the heart of God. 
We stand in speechless amaze upon the brink of this un- 
sounded sea, or exclaim with St. Paul — "Oh the depth ! 
. . . how unsearchable ! . . . past finding out ! " 

"Thy mercies, gracious Lord ! to me, 
To every soul, abound; 
A vast unfathomable sea, 

Where all our thoughts are drowned. 

" Its streams the whole creation reach, 
So plenteous is the store ; 
Enough for all, enough for each, 
Enough for evermore ! " 

Trust we then, my dear brethren ! in this revelation 
of our heavenly Father's heart. What need we more for 



MISERICORDIA. 163 

our assurance and consolation in life or death? Poor, 
trembling, contrite soul ! dismiss thy doubts and fears. 
Despair not for the greatness of thy guilt, the hardness 
of thy heart, the strength of evil habits, or the power of 
wicked spirits ; for " the Lord is plenteous in mercy." 
Oh ! are there not those here who need this precious 
assuring word ? Are there not those here who fear the 
Lord and obey the voice of his servant, yet because of 
the weakness of their faith walk in darkness and have no 
light? Are there not those here who have been baptized 
and confirmed, who habitually come to the holy com- 
munion, who love the habitation of the Lord's house and 
the place where his honor dwelleth, who are yet bowed 
down with a sense of utter unworthiness and almost 
crushed with the conscious burden of their sins? Come, 
then, ye heavy-laden and broken-hearted ! Come and 
look into the heart of God ! What see you there but 
mercy — mercy richer than the treasures of all kingdoms, 
and more inexhaustible than the light of the everlasting 
sun ? See ! he smiles a gracious welcome, and the hands 
stretched forth to receive thee have thy name engraven 
upon their palms. Look up, O dejected and penitent 
brother ! 

" Earth hath no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal." 

The Star of Bethlehem has eclipsed all the constellations. 
Calvary tokens are thickening about the throne. Every 
seraph has found a new harp, and is singing a new song ; 
and clear and full above the ancient choral hallelujahs, 
swells the sweet refrain — " Plenteous in mercv ! " Take 



1 64 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

up the mighty antiphon, ye morning stars, and all ye sons 
of God ! and send it echoing, like the blended thunders 
of all worlds, through the rejoicing universe ! Let hell 
catch the strain, and roll it back to heaven, louder than 
all the lamentations of the lost ! — " The Lord is plen- 
teous in mercy ! " 



XXVII. 

Stomlgstfjirli Bag of ILettt. 
THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 

REV. H. N. GRIM LEY, A.M. 

If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give 
me to drink ; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given 
thee living water. — John iv. 10. 

One of the incidents most vividly impressed upon the 
memories of all attentive readers of the Gospels is this 
interview of Jesus with the woman of Samaria. Jesus, in 
the early days of his ministry, goes on foot with his dis- 
ciples from Judaea to Galilee. He knows that the Jewish 
rulers have at last heard of his work and mission ; that 
they have heard with indignation that he has gathered 
around him a band of disciples, and that these disciples, 
under his guidance, are aiding to increase the numbers 
of his converts, and are baptizing the new converts in 
his name. This especially fills them with wrath. John 
the Baptist, the wild wandering preacher, also baptizes 



THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 165 

those who are roused to repentance by his fiery words ; 
and the Jewish rulers have thrown no hinderance in his 
way. But they only tolerate in him what they dare not 
interfere with. The people are so attached to John, and 
hold his holy, self-denying life in the Jordan deserts in 
such pious reverence, that it would be dangerous for the 
Jewish leaders to try to stop his woik. But this new 
zealot, this Jesus of Nazareth, — his strange proceedings 
they will put an end to, before he too becomes a danger- 
ous favorite with the common folk. Jesus hears how 
their anger and jealousy are rearing themselves up against 
him ; and doubtless deeming it better to go elsewhere, 
for the present at all events, with his gospel of peace and 
salvation, goes with his disciples towards Galilee. And 
he must needs go through Samaria. His home at Naza- 
reth, whither he is really going, is some eighty miles dis- 
tant. He is going to walk all the way. Think of our 
Saviour and his disciples braving the glare of an Eastern 
sky as they go on their long walk \ resting when the sun 
is hottest, or when they are weary and need refreshment 
and sleep, by the wayside wells or under the shade of 
the fig-trees or in the caves of the rocks. They have 
journeyed on for about six and thirty miles, when they 
come to Jacob's Well about midday ; and Jesus, weary, 
sits down to rest upon the low wall which encircles the 
well, while his disciples go on to Sychar to buy food 
wherewith to make a midday meal. They doubtless go 
to seek out the shop or store of some Jewish resident in 
this land of Samaria, from whom they may buy the bread 
they need so much. For the Jews, as a little later on 



1 66 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the narrative itself teaches us, have no dealings with the 
Samaritans. Jews and Samaritans regard each other with 
deadly hatred. True, the people of Samaria declare that 
they are the descendants of Joseph, the most honorable 
of the sons of Jacob ; that they are the representatives 
too of the ten tribes of Israel. But the Jews laugh to 
scorn their claims. " No, no ! " they say : " the ten 
tribes were lost when the people of Israel were carried 
off captive into Persia and Assyria by Shalmaneser, the 
Assyrian king. A few stragglers who had hid themselves 
in the forests and mountains and caves of the surrounding 
district did indeed return, and united themselves to the 
Greek and Syrian colonists who had established them- 
selves in the deserted country. You Samaritans are not 
true Israelites : you are only the descendants of the 
scanty remnant who united themselves in marriage with 
the idolatrous Greeks and Syrians who brought their gods 
of brass and stone into the desolated land. You are not 
true Israelites ; you are not the true chosen people of 
God. We despise you, we will treat you as outcasts. 
We will not pollute ourselves by mingling with the off- 
spring of a heathen rabble. To do so would render us 
unclean." 

And so it is in vain that the Samaritans urge that they 
are really descended, through the line of Ephraim, from 
Joseph and Rachel ; and that Mount Gerizim, on which 
their forefathers had built a sacred temple, is the hill 
which had been chosen for the republication of the 
Divine law. The Jews defy them to prove their descent : 
their own descent from Judah is beyond all dispute. 



THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 167 

And, as to the temple which the Samaritans had built for 
themselves, have they not, when assailed by persecution, 
been but too ready to renounce their God, and dedicate 
his temple to Jupiter or some other heathen god ? 

And so Jews and Samaritans go on, generation after 
generation, dwelling apart and in utter enmity ; the Sa- 
maritans looking upon the Jews as narrow-minded, cold- 
hearted bigots ; the Jews scorning the Samaritans as 
outcasts from the chosen people, and strangers to the one 
true God. There is never any interchange of courtesy 
between them, never any intercourse. Such would ren- 
der a Jew unclean. And to be unclean means, to a Jew, 
something terrible to think of. It means to be compelled 
to live alone, as a prisoner in house or tent, to have to 
break up all vessels polluted by his own touch, to have 
to wash his own garments \ it means loss of time, loss of 
money, loss of pleasure, loss of every thing that makes 
life endurable, as long as the imputation of uncleanness 
attaches to him : it means,- in short, to be forsaken by 
his friends, and to be looked upon as cut off from God. 

While our Lord is waiting for his disciples to return, 
there cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus 
says unto her, " Give me to drink." The woman looks 
at him amazed. If one of her own despised nation, or 
any wandering stranger not a Jew, had asked her, she 
would not have paused a moment, but would have given 
him water to drink just as freely as Rebekah held her 
pitcher to the lips of Eliezer. But the wearied stranger 
before her is a Jew, and she knows that the great doctors 
at Jerusalem have bidden the Jews have naught to do 



1 68 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

with the Samaritans, — to eat no bread they have baked, 
to taste no wine they have pressed, to drink no water 
they have drawn, and not even to exchange with them a 
word of kindly greeting. And so she says to our Lord 
in tones of surprise, " How is it that thou, being a Jew, 
askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? " 
Then says Jesus unto her, " If thou knewest the gift of 
God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink ; 
thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have 
given thee living water." These are words full of grace 
and beauty, which we may well ponder. But we may 
first consider the lesson which the fact of our Lord ad- 
dressing a Samaritan woman yields to us, and the mean- 
ing which lies veiled beneath the words he uses. 

Notice that our Lord accosts the woman as soon as 
she comes nigh to the well. He does not wait for her to 
speak first. He looks upon her, and sees the deep need 
she has to be told the good news of salvation. He speaks 
to her, and tells her what as yet he has not told even his 
devoted disciples. She seeks not him, yet he is resolved 
to be found of her. Others come to him with earnest 
and passionate entreaty, falling at his feet, touching the 
hem of his garment, washing his feet with penitent tears. 
The woman of Samaria comes not thus. She does not 
knowingly come to him at all. She comes simply to draw 
water to satisfy the thirst of herself and family. She 
comes little thinking of the gracious offering of living 
water which the Messiah — the long-looked-for Messiah 
— would make to her. She comes to the well, and sees 
resting there a stranger ; but what is he to her ? He is 



THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 169 

but a Jew, who thinks scorn of such as she is. She is not 
going to say any thing to one who thinks the very air 
polluted by her presence. And yet that Jewish stranger, 
resting in his thirstiness and weariness at the well-side, 
speaks to her. He says unto her, " Give me to drink." 
At first these words seem not to have any deep-hidden 
meaning ; but wait, read on, listen to the gracious talk 
they lead up to. You see quickly how they are meant to 
lead the woman's thoughts gently from the water which 
bubbles up from the well-spring, to the water of life, the 
heavenly gift which Jesus himself can bestow. And, that 
Christ should thus speak to the Samaritan woman for the 
sake of preparing her mind for the good tidings he goes 
on to reveal to her, shows that he had come to seek and 
to save the souls of all, — of Gentiles as well as of Jews ; 
of the Samaritans, the doubtful descendants of Joseph, as 
well as of the Jews, the undoubted children of Judah. 
The inspired voice of the aged Simeon had declared that 
the child Jesus was the light to lighten the Gentiles, and 
the glory of his people Israel. Upon Jew and Gentile, 
then, Jesus sheds his light, and to both reveals his glory. 
The portals of his Church shall be open both to the Jews 
who worship at Jerusalem, and to the Samaritans whose 
adoration was wont to ascend to the Most High from the 
temple on Mount Gerizim. Henceforth there shall be 
none despised, none unclean : all shall be proclaimed 
equal in God's sight ; what God has cleansed, no man 
shall call common. The self-righteousness which causes 
Jew to treat Samaritan as an outlaw, as an abhorred out- 
cast, shall have no entrance into the Church of Christ ; 



170 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the unrighteous contention, the mutual cursings, the bitter 
hatred, which keep Jew and Samaritan asunder, must not 
be known amongst the followers of Jesus, amongst those 
who accept his blessed gospel of peace and goodwill. 

As we have also seen, my friends, in reply to the ex- 
clamation of the Samaritan woman at being asked for 
water by a Jew, Jesus utters very gracious words : " If 
thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to 
thee, Give me to drink ; thou wouldest have asked of him, 
and he would have given thee living water." " Living 
water ! " The full force of this phrase will not strike us 
until we have paused for a moment to consider the images 
it would give rise to in the mind of one who dwelt be- 
neath an Eastern sky. We ourselves, my friends, are not 
so much touched by imagery relating to water and rain, 
as we are by imagery having reference to sunshine and 
bright blue skies. With the abundant moisture that falls 
upon these Western lands, our most grateful feelings are 
roused by the thought, not of rain, but of cheerful sun- 
shine ; and, like the old Greeks, we are tempted to salute 
the sun with a joyful exclamation every time he emerges 
from behind a cloud. And yet we are not insensible to 
the blessings which God vouchsafes to us by sending his 
bounteous rain upon the earth. We are not so heedless 
as to forget the manifold uses of water, — as to forget that 
water is the source of all the changefulness and beauty 
in the clouds above us ; that water is the instrument by 
which the earth has been modelled into symmetry, and its 
rocks fashioned into glorious forms ; that under the form 
of snow it robes the mountain summits with transcendent 



THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 171 

light \ that under the guise of morning dew it clothes the 
autumn fields with silvery sheen ; that it is but drops of 
falling rain turning back sunlight to the eye, that produce 
the many-colored rainbow ; that we see its varied glory 
and beauty in the foam of the torrent, in the broad lake, 
in the glancing river, in the wild, unwearied, unconquer- 
able sea. Still we should fail to be touched by the beauty 
and depth of meaning involved in the words " living 
water/' as would a dweller in an Eastern land. To un- 
derstand the images which would be called up in the 
mind of an Eastern by mention of "living water," we 
should read our Bibles carefully, and note the abundant 
references to wells and water-springs, and how often they 
are spoken of as " special gifts of God, life-giving and 
divine." Or, we should have journeyed to the far East, 
we should know the weariness of wandering in a sandy 
desert, with a scorching sun in a burning sky, the air 
around all cloudy with dust, the distant mountains quiv- 
ering in the tremulous haze. We should know what it is 
to suffer from enervating heat, from torturing thirst. Our 
minds would then gratefully welcome the thought of liv- 
ing water. At the sound of such words, we should think 
with delight of every thing associated with water : we 
should think of the spring of water rising up under the 
shadow of a great rock in a weary land, of the well dug 
in the desert long ago by patriarchal hands, and of our 
own delight at reaching the same at the close of a toil- 
some day. 

But by living water Jesus does not mean earthly water. 
He means a gift which is from heaven. He means the 



172 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

divine life which flows from himself. He means the divine 
spiritual life which is ever outflowing from his sacred heart 
into the souls of his earthly brethren. Of this living water, 
earthly water is his own chosen symbol. And the more 
we ponder the symbol, the more are we struck by its 
marvellous appropriateness. Water ! what is it ? Is it not 
life-giving and nourishing? Where there is water, there is 
life ; where there is life, there is water. The land is barren 
and dry where no water is, but even the wilderness may 
be made to blossom as the rose if the clouds do but pour 
their moisture upon it. No wonder that the earliest of 
the great Greek philosophers in his search after truth con- 
ceived that water was the ultimate principle of the uni- 
verse, the very essence of all created matter, the primal 
substance from which, by manifold and subtle transforma- 
tions, the great Creator had made all things. 

Think again of water as it passes through its unchan- 
ging cycle of change, — as caressed by the sunbeams it 
springs up from the ocean, springs up to the highest vault 
of heaven, in the form of vapor invisible to the human 
eye ; as it there becomes visible in the moving clouds, 
which form what has been called Nature's ever-changing 
picture-gallery ; as it descends in the form of star- 
crystalled snow, or in drops of rain ; as it becomes massed 
around the mountain summits in snow-fields of dazzling 
whiteness ; as it descends the winding valleys in the form 
of glaciers ; as it trickles down the mountain gulleys in 
tiny rills ; as it leaps over crags in foaming cataracts ; 
as after various omnipresent cleansing and fertilizing work, 
— making the grass to grow upon the mountains, and 



THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 173 

causing the herb to grow for the service of men, — it 
gathers together into river- channels, and hurries on to join 
once more the waters of the ocean from which whilom it 
sprang. 

Is it not, in its various beneficent manifestations, a 
fitting symbol of the divine life which flows from the 
heart of Christ to enrich the souls of his human brethren ? 
Just as all fruitful soil and every thing living which springs 
from it are more or less saturated with the moisture which 
falls upon it or is conveyed to it by a thousand tiny chan- 
nels, so are all who are members of the Christian Church 

— all who are in union with Christ — members of that 
Church and in union with Christ by virtue of the divine 
life flowing from the heart of Jesus to take up its abode in 
their hearts, and fill them with all spiritual blessings. 

Without this divine life, we can have no spiritual life 
within us. If it be withdrawn from us, our souls droop 
and faint. They feel far from the heavenly home, ban- 
ished from the Lord's presence. They feel themselves to 
be in a barren and dry land where no water is. What- 
ever be the work which we have to do in this world, 
it will never be done with so much might, it will never 
be done so effectually, as when our souls are throbbing 
with the fulness of divine life. That artist was right, who, 
feehjig it so hopeless for him to attempt to realize on 
canvas the glorious visions which before had floated 
through his soul, used to kneel down and pray for more 
divine life to be vouchsafed to him. Work of any kind 

— the work of the poet, of the artist, of the teacher, 
of the artisan, or of the woman who simply strives to 



174 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

order her household aright, and to train up her children 
in the nurture and fear of the Lord — will be done most 
nobly when the soul is animated with the life which is ever 
flowing from the heart of Christ. 

O my friends ! may we ever strive and yearn for this 
divine life, so that we may do the duties of this our 
earthly life with a strength which the Lord alone can im- 
part, with a clearness of spiritual vision which can alone 
be granted by him, and so that even on this earth the 
heavenly life may be quickened within us, and a triumph- 
ant progress commenced, — a progress which shall know 
no ending, but which shall be continued evermore in the 
spiritual world beyond ! 



XXVIII. 

3rtent2=fouttfj Hag of 3Lent. 
MARVELS OF MERCY. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

As the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward 

them that fear him. — Ps. ciii. n. 

• 

Who, that knows the Divine mercy, can ever weary in 
singing its wonders? When the royal poet touches this 
theme, he seems transported with delight, and no form of 
words is adequate to the utterance of his joy. The eighth 
verse is a simple but touching statement In the ninth 



MARVELS OF MERCY. 175 

and tenth that statement is intensified by re-iteration and 
amplification. Now the author rises from plain proposi- 
tions to sublime comparisons. Let us rise with him. Let 
us try to enter into his estimate of that which is inestim- 
able to all but the Infinite himself. " As the heaven is 
high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them 
that fear him." 

Glorious conception ! Go out, in the clear and quiet 
night, and contemplate the stupendous altitude of the 
starry cope — worlds on worlds, systems above systems, 
nebulae beyond nebulae, separated by distances for which 
we have no measure, and of which we can conceive no 
idea. This is David's picture of the Divine mercy. 

On the outer verge of the solar system rolls the great 
planet Neptune. Its distance from the earth, though it 
may be stated in miles, utterly confounds the imagination. 
Had Adam been endowed with the power of traversing 
the void immensity ; had he set forth for that distant goal 
immediately after his creation ; had he proceeded fifty 
miles an hour, and lived to the present day ; he must 
have been journeying yet, and far short of the end of his 
journey, for it would require more than six thousand 
years. So high is the heaven above the earth ; yet so 
great is the mercy of the Lord toward them that fear him. 

But within the limits of the solar system we are only 
cruising in a cluster of little islands lying along the coast 
of God's creation. The fixed stars, so called, are prob- 
ably all suns, some of them vastly larger than that which 
makes our day, and emitting many thousand times as 
much light ; yet they are so remote, that they appear but 



176 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

luminous points in the firmament ; and sweeping immeas- 
urable orbits, they never seem to change, by so much as 
a hair's breadth, their relative positions. And the tele- 
scope reveals myriads more, so far beyond these, that they 
are utterly invisible to the unaided eye. And astronomers 
tell us of others — a host innumerable — situated at so 
inconceivable a distance, that light, travelling at the rate 
of a hundred and eighty thousand miles a second, or ten 
million and eight hundred thousand miles a minute, would 
require five hundred years to traverse the space between 
them and us. And it is believed beyond all doubt that 
there are others still — billions upon billions — so far 
away, that not a solitary ray from any one of them has 
ever yet visited this planet since the day of its creation, 
and will not for incalculable ages yet to come. So high 
is the heaven above the earth ; yet so great is the mercy 
of the Lord toward them that fear him. 

Impressed with this thought, I divest myself of mate- 
riality, and go forth, a disembodied spirit, to explore the 
vastness of the universe, that I may be able to form some 
faint idea of my heavenly Father's mercy. With the speed 
of an angel's wing passing the outer orbits of the solar 
system, I direct my course toward some feebly glimmering 
star, that seems a lone sentinel on one of the farthest out- 
posts of heaven. Sirius and Aldebaran fall behind me, 
Orion and the Pleiades ; while the twinkling point at 
which I aim expands into a magnificent orb, larger than 
a million such as I have left. There arriving, I pause, 
and look back for my native planet. It is no longer visi- 
ble. But in the direction whence I came, I catch the 



MARVELS OF MERCY. 177 

faint scintillations of a scarcely discernible star. It is our 
sun. Oh, what a distance I have travelled ! Yet so great 
is the mercy of the Lord toward them that fear him. 

I look upward again. New heavens reveal themselves 
above me ; and the living sapphires, as numerous as ever, 
still gem the azure immensity. I plume my spirit pinions 
for another flight. I dart forward with the velocity of a 
sunbeam. I sweep through other wildernesses of un- 
known worlds. Centuries are consumed in my passage. 
Multiplying my speed by millions, I mount with the ra- 
pidity of thought for a thousand years. View after view 
is exhausted. Universe after universe is traversed. My- 
riads of suns succeeding myriads spring to light before 
me, expand into majestic orbs as I approach them, wheel 
off to the right and left as I pass, close in again behind 
me, dwindle into mere luminous points, and disappear in 
the distance. Systems after systems, clusters above clus- 
ters, nebulae beyond nebulae, rise like thin specks of haze 
upon my vision, and broaden and brighten into immense 
fields of suns, which I map off into sections and count by 
the billion. O Lord, my God ! thy heaven is infinite ! 
Yet so great is thy mercy toward them that fear thee. 

Who, then, that feareth him, can despise his mercy, or 
despair of its redeeming power? Let us lay hold of his 
strength, and work out our own salvation. It is not in 
the province of Omnipotence to save us without our own 
consent and co-operation. The Maker of the worlds 
cannot coerce the human will. In spite of infinite com- 
passion, the sinner chooses his own course, forms his own 
character, fixes his own eternal state. God pleads with 



178 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

him, but cannot constrain him. Christ weeps over him, 
but cannot avert his doom. Not a machine, but a free 
agent, Heaven cannot violate his moral constitution. If 
the mainspring of a watch is wrong, the maker can remove 
it and put in another ; but if the human heart is perverse 
and rebellious, it cannot be corrected against its own 
volition, without its own action, even by the almightiness 
of its Creator. Thought most awful and appalling — that 
human perverseness should baffle the love of God and 
thwart the wisdom of his mercy ! Yet so it is ; and for 
those who persist in sin Christ hath died in vain ; and 
the gospel of redemption is to them a savor of death unto 
death. Oh ! let us return to the mercy-seat, sprinkling 
our sinfulness with the atoning blood, and breathing the 
prayer of the contrite heart — " God be merciful to me a 
sinner." Then shall the Father of mercies smile and say 
— "Son, be of- good cheer ! thy sins be forgiven thee ! " 
and the devouring fire of his holiness, which now menaces 
the guilty, shall melt the heart in its flame, but consume 
only the guilt ; and with joyful appreciation we shall be 
able to sing — " As the heaven is high above the earth, 
so great is his mercy toward them that fear him ! " 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 179 

XXIX. 

Kmentg^fiftb Sag of 3Lent. 
THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, M.A. 
Your life is hid with Christ in God. — Col. iii. 3. 

Life is a mystery, however we regard it. The life of 
our natural body is a mystery. The inner life of every 
man is a mystery. The life of the Christian soul is a 
mystery. The apostle tells us it is hid with Christ in 
God. 

Think what a mystery the human soul is. The body is 
a mystery, but is not the soul a greater one ? Think you 
that the Divine Creator of body and soul would fashion 
the outward fabric wonderfully, and not marvellously 
endow the indwelling spirit? Think you that that which 
has but a short time to live, — which cometh up, and is 
cut down like a flower ; which fleeth as it were a shadow, 
and never continueth in one stay, — that the body, which 
ere long will have, as Job says, to make its bed in the 
darkness ; which will have to say to corruption, " Thou art 
my father ; " to the worm, " Thou art my mother and my 
sister," — that the perishing body would be gifted with 
comeliness and symmetry, and with organs the wonders of 
which men have been exploring for ages without exhaust- 
ing them, — think you that the body would be so surpass- 



180 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

ing in marvels, without the soul being transcendently 
wondrous ? The body, the abode of unfathomable mystery 
though it be, what is it without the soul? As soon as the 
soul takes her flight, the body is seized upon by corrup- 
tion and the worm. But the soul is immortal. Think 
what is meant by the soul and its immortality ! Memory, 
imagination, reason, the emotions, and the will, — these 
are but so many faculties of the soul. These will never 
die. These will not be buried with the body. Every im- 
pression which has ever been made upon our souls will be 
preserved forever. Our earthly knowledge will not perish. 
We shall, we may be very sure, be guided into higher 
knowledge. The memory of every day of bliss will abide 
with us evermore. The love, the joy, the peace, and 
every fruit of the Holy Spirit which our hearts have borne, 
will cling to us forever. Eye indeed hath not seen, nor 
ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to 
conceive, the destiny which is in store for the human 
soul. 

And it is the inmost depths of the Christian soul of 
which the apostle speaks. They are hid with Christ in 
God. A Christian soul scarcely needs even an apostle's 
words to tell this. The same Divine Spirit which illumined 
St. Paul's soul, and unveiled to him this deep suggestive 
truth, has access to the souls of all lovers of Jesus. They 
know that St. Paul speaks what is divinely true. Their 
own experience has taught them so. Each individual soul 
knows that its history is a sealed book to all but Christ. 
No human friend can press close enough to read all that 
is written on the tablets of the heart. The heart knoweth, 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 181 

and the stranger comprehendeth not, not simply its own 
bitterness, but also its own joy, its own yearnings after 
Christ, its own aspirations for more holiness, its own re- 
solves to walk in holy ways, — resolves naturally weak, but 
made strong by the aid of Him without whom nothing is 
strong, nothing is holy. Each soul knows its own inward 
strivings after good, its own struggles with the tempter, 
its own encounters with surrounding evil, its own weak- 
ness or strength in resisting the beguilements of the flesh ; 
and no eye other than the Lord's has read the souPs 
secrets. 

Yes, my friends, no other eye than the Lord's can read 
the records of the soul's inner life. We can never thor- 
oughly disclose ourselves to one another. We can never 
reveal to a human friend all the intensity of our inner life. 
The human soul, though living within the confines of the 
human body, is, at the same time, on the borders of an 
unseen world. The Lord who dwells in the unseen world 
is nearer to the human soul than any earthly friend can 
be. The soul is a sanctuary which God has called his 
own. "Behold, all souls are mine." And although our 
Christian life requires for its due fostering, that we should 
confide in one another, that we should live in sweet com- 
munion one with another, and in interchange of the good 
and noble thoughts which flow into our hearts from the 
Author of all goodness, yet we cannot reveal all the soul's 
inner thoughts to one another. It would seem as though 
we could not get much beyond the threshold of one 
another's souls. There is an innermost shrine which can- 
not be entered by the closest human friend ; an inner- 



182 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

most shrine in which we hold communion with the Lord, 
— a communion which indeed constitutes the hidden life 
of the soul. To no earthly friend can we reveal the 
ecstasy of such hidden communings. It would be irrev- 
erent curiosity for one to try with questionings and prob- 
ings to force from another the hidden secrets of the soul's 
spiritual communing with the Lord. No earthly friend 
must raise the veil which shrouds from view the life 
hidden with Christ in God. 

The Christian soul is often visited with joys and sorrows 
which even the nearest friends know not of. You all 
know well how your souls are touched by various little 
things in every-day life, and how the start of joy or the 
throb of pain is only known to yourselves and the Lord. 
You hear, perhaps, a simple strain of music, or see some 
forgotten relic of your earlier days, or read all alone by 
the fireside some book, or look into the faces of your 
children ; and instantly there come welling up within you 
thoughts whose only expression is a glistening tear. No 
earthly one knows how your hearts have been touched : 
but in heaven there is One who knows ; the gentle epi- 
sode is henceforth a secret between you and him. 

What is this, my friends, but one of the phases of the 
communion of the soul with the Lord? We are not given 
to dwell much upon this aspect of the soul's union with 
Christ, of its life being thus hid with him. We are oft so 
overborne by the feeling of our own unworthiness, that we 
forget that the Lord knows the best of us as well as the 
worst. We think of him as the reader of our heart's 
saddest secrets, but not as the inspirer of our brightest 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 183 

thoughts and holiest desires. If we were to contemplate 
him more in this light than we do, might we not be the 
better able to keep truer to ourselves, less liable to fall 
away from the high standard of duty we place before our- 
selves in our highest moments? In truth, the thought of 
each one of us might be, " Thou, O Lord, hast entered 
into heart-communion with me, and my soul's noblest 
thoughts have not been hid from thee : but thou, too, 
canst read what is vile within me ; and shalt thou have to 
see the heart which thou hast consecrated by thy pres- 
ence, become the abode of evil thoughts, the fountain 
whence shall issue evil words and unholy deeds?" O 
my friends ! we can hide our hearts, when stained with sin, 
when degrading thoughts have taken possession of them, 
from an earthly friend who has been in heart-nearness to 
us in moments of exaltation ; but we cannot do so from 
the Lord. He has searched us out and known us. There 
is not a word in our tongue, but he knoweth it altogether. 
No inward thought is hid from him. Whither shall we go 
from his Spirit ? The darkness which veils us from each 
other is no darkness with him, but the night is as clear as 
the day. 

You know, my friends, that in Christ we are bidden to 
behold God manifest in the flesh. In him we are to be- 
hold the Divine in unison with the human. He came 
down from heaven to unite himself, not simply to the 
human in the person of the Son of the blessed Mary, but 
also to all humanity, — to bring all humanity into unison 
with the Divine. This great work he is even now carrying 
on. And he draws humanity into unity with the Divine, 



1 84 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

by drawing towards himself the individual members of 
the human family. As they are drawn nearer and nearer 
to him, he inspires them more and more with his Divine 
Spirit. The human hearts which have become the 
abodes of his Spirit are so drawn into mystic union with 
their Lord, that their life is hid with Christ in God. So 
that the apostle's words do but call our attention to one 
of the phases of the great work which the divine Re- 
deemer is carrying on amongst the human souls of his 
earthly brethren. 

And it is well that we should from time to time think 
of this great work, — that we should dwell upon the 
thought that the Divine One is ever drawing near to us ; 
that although by reason of our Lord's ascension into 
heaven, by reason of his retiring behind the veil which 
screens from us the spiritual world, he is not visible to 
the outward eye, he is nevertheless visible to the eye of 
faith; that, though our outward hands may not touch 
him, he can be received into the embraces of our souls ; 
that, though no sound of his voice fall upon the out- 
ward ear, the still small voice of his loving inspiration can 
make itself heard within us. It is well that we should 
think that the Divine is ever in our midst, — is not sun- 
dered from us by stellar space, but is ever with us, is ever 
our Immanuel. Oh, let us believe that the Divine One is 
ever near us, ever desirous to be welcomed by us, to be 
received by us as our Redeemer, to save us from sin, 
from frivolity, from ignorance, from narrowness of heart 
and mind, from worldly pride, from the bigotry and self- 
righteousness which spring from a grovelling spiritual 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 185 

life ! Let us believe that he is ever yearning to carry on 
in us the great work of the incarnation, so that the Divine 
may be united with the human in us, and the human be 
raised into union with the Divine ; so that indeed the 
word, the life, the thought of God may become flesh in 
us as in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

This truth of the life of the Christian soul consisting 
in its union with the Lord should be very precious to us. 
It is a truth of which men have different and varied ex- 
periences. For, as it is possible for men to grow in grace 
and in knowledge of their Lord and Saviour, so is it pos- 
sible for some to enter into a closer union with the Lord 
than has been vouchsafed to others. It is possible that 
some in their religious life have not been as yet so richly 
blessed as others ; but all who have the faintest yearnings 
in their hearts towards Christ may feel assured that that 
yearning is not so feeble as to be unrecognized by the 
Lord. He knows of the work begun in their souls. He 
knows that they are drawing nigh unto himself. He will 
aid them to draw into nearer union still. He will so 
draw near to them that his Divine Spirit shall be abun- 
dantly shed upon them, and that the divine work which 
started from such faint and feeble beginnings shall go on ; 
and that the souls so drawn to him shall in this life 
experience the full blessing of having their inward life hid 
with Christ in God, and in the life to come enjoy the 
felicity of eternal union with the Lord. 



1 86 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

XXX. 

3Ctoent2**fxtfj ©ag of 3Lent. 
SIN IMMEASURABLY REMOVED. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our trans- 
gressions from us. — Ps. ciii. 12. 

Doubtless many of you are familiar with the Divine 
ordinance of the scape-goat, recorded in the sixteenth 
chapter of Leviticus. The high-priest chose two he-goats 
from the flock, and presented them for a sin-offering 
before the Lord at the door of the tabernacle. Then he 
cast lots upon them, which should be for Jehovah, and 
which for Azazel. The former he slew, and sprinkled its 
blood upon the mercy-seat, to make atonement for the 
transgressions of his people. Upon the head of the latter 
he laid his hands, and confessed over it the sins of the 
congregation, thus symbolically transferrfng their guilt to 
their typical substitute ; and sent it away into the wilder- 
ness, where it was turned loose, or hurled over a precipice. 
This whole transaction typified the work of Christ, who 
died for our sins, and still lives to bear them away. As 
one goat could not represent both the sacrificial death 
and the subsequent intercessory life, two were necessary 
to complete the type. In the one, Christ atones for us ; 
in the other, he is our ever-living Mediator. As he bore 



SIN IMMEASURA BL Y RE MO VED. 1 8 7 

our sins upon the cross, he still bears them before his 
Father's throne. Reconciled by his death, we are saved 
by his life. 

The Hebrew word Azazel, used in this connection, and 
nowhere else in Holy Scripture, seems to be a proper 
name ; and what or whom does it designate, but the 
accursed prince of evil ? To Azazel, Satan, the old ser- 
pent, the scape-goat was consigned, laden with the guilt 
of Israel. It is fit that the author of sin should bear its 
ultimate curse. He who brought it with him into our 
world, must carry it out with him in his everlasting exile. 
His own sin first cast him down from heaven ; and ours, 
which he has instigated, shall hurl him forth from the 
redeemed earth. Burdened with the double guilt of his 
own original crime, and that of those whom he has 
seduced from their allegiance to the eternal King, he 
shall sink in the bottomless pit of an irredeemable dam- 
nation, and the distance of the nethermost hell from the 
heaven of heavens shall measure the removal of our 
transgressions from us. 

This is God's method of putting away sin, and expel- 
ling it from the universe forever. Fallen in the first 
Adam, we rise in the second. On him were laid the 
iniquities of us all ; and he hath borne them away so far, 
that the fierce accuser, however diligently he seek, shall 
never find them, till they return in retributive wrath and 
ruin upon his own devoted head. In our text, the vague- 
ness of the thought indicates its vastness. The east is 
infinitely removed from the west. The circumference of 
the earth does not measure the interval. *The extremi- 



CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 



ties of its orbit do not touch the boundary. The remot- 
est planet of our system, swinging on its pendulum at 
every oscillation five thousand four hundred and ninety- 
two millions of miles, does not approach the limit here 
supposed. Neither the circuit of the sun nor the sweep 
of the stellar host, even were we able to form an adequate 
idea of such a distance, could help us to any conception 
of the immensity thus intimated. The stars that twinkle 
billions of leagues beyond the rising day have an infinite 
east on the other side of them, and the constellations that 
glow as far beyond the vermilion curtains of the evening 
send their beams still onward into .a boundless west. All 
is indefinite and illimitable. There is neither beginning 
nor end. Yet so far hath he removed our transgressions 
from us. 

Methinks I see the Adversary prosecuting the baleful 
quest, that he may have wherewith to charge us before 
the great white throne. He seeks them in Gethsemane ; 
but blood better than that of Abel cries from the ground, 
and tells him they are not there. He inquires for them 
at Golgotha ; but the rent rocks and open graves inform 
him they are not there. He hastes to the hcly sepulchre ; 
but two angels, sitting within the empty vault, assure him 
they are not there. He descends to the shades of Hades ; 
but a thousand happy spirits, rejoicing in the intelligence 
of their redemption, testify that their Redeemer did not 
leave them there. He returns to the Mount of Olives ; 
but the chariot of the ascension has gone over the ever- 
lasting hills, and no black mantle of human guilt fell be- 
hind as it rose** Swifter than lightning, the wrathful fiend 



SIN IMMEASURABLY REMOVED. 189 

shoots off into the infinitude of worlds, inquiring at every 
habitation of intelligence, as he passes, whither went our 
Champion with the sins of his ransomed race ? " We saw 
him as he swept by with his heavenly train," answer the 
planets all, " and knew that he bore away the iniquities 
of our sister Earth, but none of his attendants tarried to 
tell us whither." He asks Sirius, and Sirius replies : — 
" I heard the sound of his trumpets, and saw the corus- 
cation of his chariots, and went forth to worship him ; but 
before I had finished my obeisance, he was beyond the 
bounds of the Galaxy." He interrogates Orion, and 
Orion responds : — " The voice of applauding millions 
fell upon my ear, and I beheld the returning Conqueror, 
with a mighty concourse of his holy ones ; and as he went 
by, he waved me a gracious benediction, and I sent after 
him a shout of joy that woke the echoes of a thousand 
worlds ; but in a moment the rear-guard of his host dis- 
appeared among the happy constellations." At the Plei- 
ades he pauses and repeats the question, and the Pleiades 
exclaim : — "At the rushing of immortal wings we rose ; 
and lo ! the radiance of imperial ensigns, brighter than 
a million suns; and amidst a triumphal array outdoing 
all magnificence, sat the incarnate Son of God upon his 
living chariot-throne ; and at our reverent salutation, he 
lifted a diadem of many crowns, and showed a blood- 
marked brow ; and his hands, upraised to bless us, were 
pierced with ghastly wounds ; but to the music of the 
morning stars, the celestial procession marched on, and 
we caught the flash of helm and coronet from behind the 
brightest of the nebulae." Thus through stratum after 



190 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

stratum of sidereal suns and systems, ever baffled in his 
vengeful quest, hastes the accursed inquisitor of doom, 
while all the powers and principalities in heavenly places 
torment his unwilling ear with the same evangel of mercy : 
— " Bearing the crimes of one world, the spoils of an- 
other, and the crowns of all, the divine Conqueror has 
passed on into the blessed immensities and eternities ; and 
we observed all the happy universes along his path doing 
him delighted homage, and heard myriads of redeemed 
immortals in his train chanting the wonders of his love, till 
from one end of heaven to the other rang the great chorus 
of triumph." Maddened and desperate at length, he 
swears by all the thrones of hell, and by the sevenfold 
central hell within him, that he will wreak his hitherto 
thwarted vengeance upon other innocent creations ; and 
summoning all his baleful powers, he turns to see where 
he may find his likeliest victim. But his hour is come — 
the judgment of reprobate angels. Now shall ransomed 
humanity be finally avenged of its adversary. The cruci- 
fied Hand which took away our curse hurls it with infinite 
aggravations back upon its author ; and down he plunges, 
a darkened and shattered sun, blasted and staggering 
through the wild chaos of crazed and dissolving worlds, 
to the place of eternal punishment, so remote from the 
seats of the blessed that never a ray of light fell upon its 
gloom, or seraph's wing waved over its battlements ; and 
from every province of Immanuel's happy empire, forever 
purged of the plague, rises once more the sweet refrain 
■ — " As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he 
removed our transgressions from us ! " 



JUS TIFICA TION. 1 9 1 

XXXI. 

2Ttacntg^cbetttb Uag of Eent. 
JUSTIFICATION. 

REV. F. W. FABER, D.D. 

Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in 
Christ Jesus. — Rom. Hi. 24. 

As the great work of the incarnation seems to flow 
out of creation, and to be the crowning and fulfilling 
of it, so does the work of justification proceed from the 
incarnation, or hang from it as its divine and glorious 
fruit. The justification of a sinner is surely one of the 
most beautiful works of God, and deserves our most lov- 
ing contemplation. Looking at it simply as the transit 
from a state of sin to a state of sanctifying grace, with- 
out any consideration of the dispositions remotely or 
proximately comprehended in it, it is full of wonder, and 
of the peculiar character of the Divine operations. The 
first moment of the life of grace is the last moment of 
the life of sin : nay, rather, it is itself the death of sin. 
Nothing comes between. Neither does God use the 
instrumentality of angel or saint, but he himself immedi- 
ately communicates that grace to his creature's soul ; and 
the creature is justified not merely by an act of the Di- 
vine will, but by an unspeakable communication of the 
Divine nature. It is a greater work than the creation, for 



192 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

many reasons. First of all, it implies the incarnation as 
well. Then creation is simply out of nothing, whereas 
justification is accomplished on a previously reluctant 
matter, — -the corrupt will of man. He, says St. Austin, 
who made you without you, will not justify you without 
you. Creation, again, is ordained for a natural good ; 
justification, for a supernatural one. To quote St. Austin 
again, it is a greater thing to justify the impious than to 
create heaven and earth. The good of a single grace, 
says St. Thomas, is greater than the natural good of the 
whole universe ; and the Church in her collect teaches 
us that God manifests his omnipotence chiefly in sparing 
and showing mercy. 

Let us take a case to make it clear. A man goes 
forth from his house into the streets of London, in a state 
of sin. The weight of God's wrath, and the curse of 
the blood of Christ, are heavy upon his soul. To the 
angels he is a sight of unutterable loathing and disgust, 
if his state is known to them. He would not dare to 
have his sins whispered in the crowd, for the contempt 
even of his fellow-sinners would crush him to the earth. 
He is the slave of the dark demon, in a bondage more 
foul, more degrading, more tyrannical, more abject, than 
the horrors of African slavery can show. In his breast, 
though he hardly knows it, he has the beginnings of hell, 
and the germs of everlasting hatred of Almighty God. 
Cain, savage and gloomy and restless, wandering curse- 
goaded over the unpeopled earth, was not worse off than 
he ; perhaps better. In the streets he meets a funeral. 
Thoughts crowd into his mind. Faith is awake, and on 



J US TIFICA TION. 1 9 3 

the watch. Grace disposes him for grace. The veil falls 
from sin ; and he turns from the hideous vision with 
shame, with detestation, with humility. The eye of his 
soul glances to his crucified Redeemer. Fear has led 
the way to hope, and hope has the heart to resolve, and 
faith tells him that his resolution will be accepted, and 
he loves — how can he help loving Him who will accept 
so poor a resolution ? There is a pressure on his soul. 
It was the pressure of the Creator, omnipotent, immense, 
all-holy, and incomprehensible, on his living soul. The 
unseen hand was laid on him only for a moment. He 
has not passed half a dozen shop-fronts, and the work is 
done. He is contrite. Hell is vanquished. The angels 
of heaven are in a stir of joy. His soul is beautiful. 
God is yearning over it with love and with ineffable desire. 
It needs only one cold touch of death, and an eternity 
of glory lies with all its vast and spacious realms of 
vision before him. And yet this work so wonderful, so 
beautiful, so altogether worthy of the Divine perfections, 
is not done once only, or now and then, or periodically, 
or to make an epoch in the world's history : it is being 
accomplished in churches, in hospitals, in prisons, on 
shipboard, on the scaffold, in the streets and fields of 
daily labor, close to the mower or the reaper, or the 
gardener or the vine-dresser, who dreams not. that God 
is in his neighborhood, so busy, and at so stupendous a 
work. For, to turn a child of Satan into a son. of God is 
so tremendous a work, that St. Peter Chrysologus says of 
it, that the angels are astonished, heaven marvels, earth 
trembles, flesh cannot bear it, ears cannot take it in, the 



i 9 4 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

mind cannot reach it, the whole creation is too weak to 
endure its magnitude, and is short of intellect to esteem 
it rightly, and is afraid of believing it, because it is so 
much. 



XXXII. 

&foentg=eigf)tfj ffiap of 3Lwt. 
GO US FATHERLY COMPASSION. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear 
him — Ps. ciii. 13. 

By two sublime similes the Psalmist has aided our 
poor estimate of the Divine mercy. By the first of them 
he lifts us from earth to heaven ; by the second he carries 
us from one end of heaven to the other. Having trav- 
ersed immensity and explored the universe without find- 
ing an adequate similitude for Jehovah's compassion, he 
now descends into the bosom of the family, and traces 
the most touching illustration of his theme in the tender- 
ness of the paternal heart. We will descend with him. 
Here we are at home ; experience comes to the help of 
imagination, and all is simple and easy to the understand- 
ing even of childhood. Necessarily, indeed, the picture is 
imperfect, for it is a finite thing brought forward to sym- 
bolize an infinite. Better might the glow-worm represent 
the sun, the sand-grain represent the globe, or the dew- 



GOD'S FATHERLY COMPASSION 195 



drop represent the ocean. But the illustration is the best 
that our human experience can furnish, and no possible 
comparison could appeal more powerfully to the profound- 
est sympathies of our nature. " Like as a father pitieth 
his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." 

See that feeble old man, with careworn and sorrowful 
countenance, bending over the couch of that fair young 
invalid ; now pillowing her aching head upon his bosom, 
now bathing her fevered brow with his tears ; night after 
night, in weariness and pain, watching the stars out in 
ministrations of love at her side ; neglecting business, 
forgetting every interest, and sacrificing health and life 
itself, for her comfort and recovery. The wasted sufferer 
is the old man's daughter. Her mother is no more. 
Brother or sister has she none. He alone lives to care 
for her. She is the dearest object' to him on earth, all 
that he has to love. The feelings of father, mother, sister, 
and brother, throb in his single heart. Suffering Chris- 
tian ! so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. 

There is an obstinate and refractory boy. From in- 
fancy his intractableness has been plied with gentle dis- 
suasives and mild remonstrances, such as none but a 
parent could employ. Sometimes the father has been 
forced to resort to more painful discipline. All expedients 
have hitherto failed to bend or break the iron sinew in 
the neck of the domestic rebel. Still severer measures 
are now resolved upon ; but the lad arrests the descend- 
ing rod with confessions, and promises, and penitential 
tears. A hundred times already, in compassion to his 
pleading child, has the father refrained and forgiven ; yet 



196 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

a hundred times has the offence been repeated, and ever 
with new aggravations. Will it be otherwise now, if the 
offender is spared? So would the father fain persuade 
himself. His heart melts at the tears of his son, his arm 
is paralyzed by the imploring tone, and the intended cor- 
rection becomes an affectionate caress. Penitent sinner ! 
so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. 

Make way for the returning prodigal ! Years ago he 
received his portion and went into a far country. Severed 
from the sweet conservative influences of home, and yield- 
ing to the headlong impulse of youthful passion, he soon 
forgot his father's counsels, and squandered all he had in 
profligate indulgence. Reduced to the last extremity, he 
degraded himself to the condition of a swineherd ; and 
in his hunger, envied the filthy beasts their fare. Naked, 
famishing, heart-broken, he remembers his former state, 
and resolves to return to his father. Will that father 
receive the son who has so debased himself and dis- 
honored his family? Surely, he will not be very cordial ; 
he will meet him with somewhat of reserve ; and it will 
be only after long penitence and probation, that he will 
restore the ingrate to his full confidence and affection, 
and to his former place in his household. Nay, but he 
sees him coming, and his heart yearns for the wretched 
boy. He hastes to meet him ; falls upon his neck ; 
smothers his confession with kisses ; calls for the best 
robe, the embroidered sandals, the bracelet set with glit- 
tering gems, the preparation for joyous festivities, and 
the merry-making dance and song ; because this his son 
was dead, and is alive again — was lost, and is found. 



GOD'S FATHERLY COMPASSION. 197 

Poor contrite heart ! so the Lord pitieth them that fear 
him. 

But it deeply concerns us to know that we sustain the 
character to which all this paternal pity is assured. Do 
we fear God? Do we revere his holiness and his justice? 
Does the dread of his displeasure deter us from the viola- 
tion of his law? Does the filial sentiment of duty and 
affection prompt us to obey him as our Father and honor 
him as our King? When we have wronged him by 
rebellion and base ingratitude, do we seek his feet with 
humble confessions, and fervent supplications, and honest 
purposes of amendment ? These are important questions 
for us to answer. We are in danger of falling into the 
fatal mistake of those who apply indiscriminately to man- 
kind all that the Holy Scriptures say of God's compassion 
and clemency to the penitent believer in Christ ; not dis- 
cerning between the righteous and the wicked, between 
him that serveth the Lord and him that serveth him not. 
But we must remember that God is a discriminator of 
character, though not a respecter of persons. He is 
good to all ; but his redeemed people enjoy a peculiar 
interest in his goodness. His tender mercies are over 
all his works ; but his tenderest mercies are for those 
who forsake their sins and walk in his holy ways. He 
freights the sun and the shower with blessings alike for 
the just and the unjust, for the thankful and the unthank- 
ful ; but such only as have been brought into the bond 
of his covenant, and made members of his beloved Son, 
can have any claim upon his choicest, richest, sweetest 
mercies — his pardoning, purifying, renovating mercies — 



198 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

his peace which passeth understanding — his joy unspeak- 
able and full of glory, the communion of his saints on 
earth, and the fellowship of his throne in heaven. They 
whose hearts are not right with God have no part nor 
lot in the matter. They are still in the gall of bitterness 
and the bond of iniquity. They are alien enemies, con- 
demned already, and the wrath of God abideth on them. 
Jehovah hath other attributes than mercy ; and all his 
attributes agree in his moral government, like the concord 
of sweet sounds in a grand choral harmony. None of 
them is sacrificed to another, or thrown into the back- 
ground to make another's display the more conspicuous. 
In every act of providence, in every dispensation of truth 
and grace, they unite, co-operate, and rejoice together. 
Hand in hand, they guard the gates of the first paradise, 
and open those of the heavenly Jerusalem. "A God all 
mercy were a God unjust." But he is just as well as 
merciful, and cannot acquit the guilty. He is holy as 
well as merciful, and cannot be reconciled to sin. He is 
true and unchangeable, and his threatenings as well as his 
promises must be fulfilled. He is as much obliged to 
punish the incorrigible, as he is disposed to pardon the 
penitent. Refusing the terms of forgiveness, you must 
take the penalty of transgression. The day is coming, 
when all the severer attributes shall rise up to avenge 
their insulted sister Mercy. Beware, I beseech you, of 

that day ! 

" For justice to judgment shall call, 
And who shall their coming abide, 
When wrath the most fearful of all — 
The wrath of the Lamb — is defied ! " 



CONTENTMENT. 199 

O thou immortal Victim of our sins ! God of com- 
passion and clemency ! receive the humble sacrifice of 
our broken and contrite hearts, and enable us from ex- 
perience to testify with all thy pardoned people, that — 
" Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth 
them that fear him " ! 



XXXIII. 

Jtftf) Suntiag in ILettt. 
CONTENTMENT. 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. — 
Phil. iv. 11. 

When St. Paul had learned that lesson, he did not need 
much more schooling. To be content with such things 
as we have, is the hardest and greatest lesson which we 
have to learn. We know that St. Paul was a very learned 
man ; mighty in the scriptures, brought up at the feet of 
Gamaliel • but he did not learn that lesson from books, 
nor from scribe, nor elder. He needed another school- 
master, and a different school ; and one day he found 
that schoolmaster as he was going on the road to Damas- 
cus, when he heard a voice saying to him, " Saul, Saul, 
why persecutest thou me?" Jesus Christ became his 
Master, and his school was the Christian life. Many and 



200 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

hard were the lessons which were given him, at Lystra and 
Philippi, in the judgment-hall of Felix and Agrippa, in 
the Alexandrian ship, amid the waves at Melita, in the 
prison and the stocks ; but he learned them all, and so 
attained to the highest of all knowledge, — to be content. 
We too have this lesson set us, and happy are we if we 
learn it. There are many learned men who are ignorant 
in this matter. There are many who have the gift of 
tongues, who cannot say truly, " I am contented." There 
are travellers who can find their way round the world, 
who have never found the road to heaven which leads 
by the way of contentment. I want you to go to school 
now, my brethren, and to learn that lesson. Without it 
our Christianity is but a name, our hope of salvation is 
a shadow. As God's people of old were cut off in the 
wilderness, and shut out of the promised land, because 
they murmured, so with us to-day : murmuring lips can- 
not sing the praises of the Lamb ; a discontented heart 
can never send forth a thanksgiving. In this school we 
must have a master. Some things may be learned with- 
out a teacher ; a man may master a trade or develop his 
genius unaided : but if we want to learn contentment, we 
must have Jesus Christ as our teacher. We must go to 
Him who murmured not, who pleased not himself, who 
bore all things. His school is open to you now, open 
to all ranks and classes, rich and poor, clever and igno- 
rant. Only come as little children desiring to be taught, 
and you shall learn a wisdom which is, in value, above 
rubies. 

Let us think, first of all, of the advantages and bless- 



CONTENTMENT. 201 

ings of contentment. It has been truly said, by a great 
writer whose teaching I have embodied in this sermon, 
that contentment is the remedy for all evils. The con- 
tented man can pass through the fire of affliction, and 
escape burning ; through seas of trouble, and the waves 
shall not go over his soul. He may endure hunger and 
nakedness, and yet not want. Contentment eases all 
life's burdens, salves all wounds, and mends all rags. 
Surely there is no excuse for our discontent, since we are 
God's : we are the clay, and he is the potter, and he has 
a right to do with us as seemeth him best. We live by 
his food ; we work by his light ; we breathe his air ; all 
we have comes from him : how, then, dare we rebel 
against him? If misfortune comes upon us, content- 
ment will remove its sting, since we know that we do not 
depend on chance, but on God who doeth all things well. 
Happy are we if we fear dishonesty more than death, 
and esteem impatience worse than a fever, and pride 
more terrible than loss of fortune. Happy are we if we 
think that poverty is better than covetousness, and if 
we let nothing trouble us except the knowledge that we 
have done a base action, or spoken foolishly, or thought 
wickedly. 

And now let. us seek for some plain, practical rules for 
learning contentment. First, let us always look at every 
misfortune on both sides, and weigh it in both hands. 
A trouble may come upon us which is very bad for the 
body, but very good for the soul. An enemy may heap 
reproaches upon us which are very hard to bear, but in 
those harsh words we may hear of some of our faults for 



202 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the first time. We may lose the favor of our friends 
because we have tried to do our duty • but what then ? 
we have gained the favor of God. A wise man, over- 
taken by a heavy storm of rain, will wrap his clothes 
around him, and think of the good which is being done 
to the crops : so, when the storm of trouble overtakes 
us, let us remember that it makes Christian virtues grow 
and increase. 

Again, let us avoid a wish to change places with other 
people ; and, instead of comparing ourselves with the 
more prosperous, let us think of those who are worse 
off than ourselves. Would you have changed places with 
Dives for the sake of his purple and fine linen ? Then 
remember that Dives was tormented in hell. Would you 
envy Judas his thirty pieces of silver? Not if you re- 
member his remorse and suicide. Would you have 
changed places with Saul for the sake of a crown, or 
with Absalom for the sake of his beauty? Then remem- 
ber how Saul perished at Gilboa, and that Absalom died 
a rebel to his father and his king. 

Again, if you would learn contentment, when misfor- 
tune comes rather count up your blessings than your 
miseries. Look for the flowers in your path : the thorns 
will find you out without your seeking them. If you lose 
money, remember that you have health left ; if your 
bodily strength fails you, think that you have more time 
to look to your soul's health ; if your friends leave you, 
remember that you have God. Learn, also, riot to meet 
troubles half way. Try not to fret about the possible 
cares which may come to-morrow : we have nothing to 



CONTENTMENT. 203 

do with to-morrow. We are dead to yesterday, and not 
yet born to the morrow : to-day only is ours. God has 
portioned out to every day its work, its burden, its 
trouble ; and "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." 
Strive too, my brothers, to be satisfied with what you 
have, rather than to be anxious for what you have not. 
You could not quench your thirst better from a river than 
from a tiny spring, nor would the draught be sweeter from 
a marble fountain than from a wayside pool. To the con- 
tented man, only one thing is an evil, that is sin ; since 
" who is he that will harm you if ye be followers of that 
which is good?" It is no evil to be poor, but it is a 
great evil to be vicious or impatient. To be hungry is 
not so bad as to be gluttonous. Weariness is a less evil 
than sloth, loneliness than bad company. The pains of 
the body are better to bear than the torments of a lost 
soul. If you would be truly happy, learn to look on your 
troubles as God's blessings in disguise. Jacob said in his 
sorrow, " All these are against me : " yet those very things 
restored him to his son and to comfort. What brought 
Joseph to honor? A pit and a prison. What brought 
Daniel to his advancement in Babylon ? A den of lions. 
What brought Jesus to the victory, and the right hand 
of his Father? A cruel cross. Yes, truly has it been 
said, " God sows blessings in the long furrows which the 
ploughers plough in the back of the Church." What- 
ever else you pray for, pray that you may learn the les- 
son of contentment ; that you may feel truly that " all 
things work together for good to them that love God ; " 
that you may be able to say, alike in trouble and pros- 



204 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

perity, " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him 
good. For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, 
therewith to be content." 



XXXIV. 

STfoentg^nintf} Bag in 2Unt. 
THE TWO MITES. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. 

And Jesus looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the 
treasury. And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two 
mites. And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath 
cast in more than they all. For all these have of their abundance cast in 
unto the offerings of God; but she of her penury hath cast in all the 
living that she had. — St. Luke xxi. 1-4. 

A good lesson is here taught us. The poor widow 
offered to God what, for the time being, was her little all. 
The wealthy Jews, who had given their contributions, had 
but given what they could well spare from the abundance 
they possessed. It is well that we should heed the lesson 
here implied. It is well that the poor should be reminded 
that they, as well as the rich, can make acceptable offer- 
ings to God. It is well that the rich should be told that 
there is one thing in the world they cannot do so grandly, 
so royally, as the poor ; and that is giving. It is well 
that the rich should be reminded that the loss of what 



THE TWO MITES. 205 

they give distresses them but little, for they give it of 
their abundance. If they come to church, and give their 
gold to be used in God's service, none of their comforts 
will thereby be diminished. They will be just as warmly 
clad, as daintily fed, as comfortably housed, as ever. 
There will be no diminished glow in the winter's fire ; 
there will be no tiresome cheese-paring to put up with. 
All that the gift will affect will be the ruled page on 
which the record of expenses is kept. But to the really 
poor, giving comes much more home. To them, giving 
means extra pinching and contriving. It is liable to 
leave the purse empty altogether. It is liable to affect 
the contents of the scanty larder. Those who know the 
poor best can tell of the many kindnesses they manifest 
towards their neighbors whom distress or illness or any 
calamity overtakes. They can tell, that, though their 
hoard is little, their hearts are great ; how out of their 
penury, but also out of the abundance of their kindliness, 
they render self-denying help from their own slender 
meal, and spare the choicest morsels to tempt a sick one 
to eat, and sacrifice their own rest to nurse one who 
otherwise would have to contend with illness all alone. 

They also who work amongst the poor, ministering to 
their spiritual wants, bringing to them in their poverty 
the riches of the gospel of Christ, know well how to 
value the offerings which the poor, out of their penury, 
make in God's house. At the churches such as you find 
in large towns, free and open to all, and at which the 
maintenance of the services, and the carrying-on of the 
various works of charity in the parish, have to depend 



206 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

on the freewill offerings of the worshippers, the poor 
man's pence and the poor widow's mite assert their 
powers. The offerings, though singly small, united are 
abundant. Many parish clergymen would rather have the 
poor always with them, to aid them in their work, than 
have to trust alone to the offerings of the few who are 
well-to-do. The poor, after all, cast in more than the 
rich. Like the widow in the Gospel story, last in the 
social scale, they become first in the rank of givers. 
The first truly become last, and the last first. 

But the little incident of the widow and her two mites, 
which outweighed the gifts of the rich, may be so con- 
templated as to yield even a nobler lesson than the one 
connected with giving of offerings which it teaches so 
plainly and unmistakably. 

There is more than one kind of riches, there is more 
than one kind of poverty, there is more than one kind 
of giving. The offerings of God mean more than gold 
and silver and pence. 

There are some riches that are common to people of 
all ranks. Amongst both the rich and the poor, there 
may be the riches of mental endowment ; there may be 
the riches of a contented disposition ; there may be the 
riches of bodily health ; there may be the riches of per- 
sonal form and comeliness. There may be, too, various 
sorts of poverty. There may be the poverty of a mind 
doomed by its natural dulness to abide in ignorance ; 
there may be the poverty of a spirit prone to sadness and 
melancholy, given always to indulge in gloomy forebod- 
ings ; there may be the poverty of a frame diseased, and 



THE TWO MITES, 207 

heir to many ills ; there may be the poverty of a bodily 
presence mean and contemptible, lacking all beauty and 
grace. But of all, whether their mental and bodily en- 
dowments be abundant or scanty, there is one offering 
required. It is required by God. It is the offering of 
the whole life to him. And though we should expect 
that what is offered should be offered in accordance with 
the gospel rule, "Unto whomsoever much is given, of 
him shall be much required," is it not too often other- 
wise? How oft, alas ! have the energies of a soul nobly 
endowed been devoted to the service of an earthly king, 
while the King of heaven has been forgotten and un- 
served ! How oft have the sweetest-tempered and most 
genial of men, in their light-hearted pursuit of pleasure, 
forgotten the Lord who gave them what he looked to 
have returned to him ! How oft have health and strength 
of body been allied to feebleness of spiritual life, and 
been accompanied by no self-consecration to God ! How 
oft have the riches of personal beauty which the Lord 
would fain have had offered up to him to be further 
enriched with the beauty and the purity which come from 
beholding his face, — how oft have they become the 
willing slaves of sensual delights ! On the other hand, 
have there not been some of the most devoted servants 
of the Lord who have had little else to bring to him than 
a humble and contrite spirit, — who have been unlearned 
and simple, and yet by quiet perseverance in the well- 
doing possible both to the wise and the simple, have 
attained to that which passeth all understanding? Have 
there not been sad, desponding souls, who, by bringing 



208 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

their burdened lives to Christ, have found rest and peace, 
and the power to bear the yoke of sorrow ? Have there 
not been afflicted ones whose weary lives have been 
offered to God, and whose souls have been thereby 
richly blessed ? Have there not been others who with no 
personal qualities to give them favor in the eyes of men, 
— who with weak bodily presence, and speech rude and 
contemptible, have yet found favor with God, and have 
lived so as to glorify him abundantly? 

In more ways than one the first may become last, and 
the last first. The poor ones of this world, bereft of 
natural endowments, widowed of earthly grace, may cast 
into the treasury of the Lord offerings more than all they 
who give of their abundance. 



XXXV. 

SHjirtutfj ©ag of 3Lent. 
CONVICTION OF SIN. 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 
My sin is ever before me. — Ps. li. 3. 

The first step in true repentance is to find out our sin ; 
to see it, to feel convinced how vile and hideous and 
sorrowful it is, and so to feel sorrow for it. So long as we 
think we are well enough, not worse than others, not doing 
harm to any one, we shall never repent. A man with 



CONVICTION OF SIN. 209 

heart-disease, who does not believe in his illness, takes 
no care of himself, but goes about saying, " See how 
strong I am," till one day he falls down dead. So with 
the sinner who has not become convinced of his sin. 
Well, if repentance is so important a thing, when ought 
we to begin to repent? Dare we talk about to-morrow, 
or a more convenient season? There is only one word 
for you and me : that word is Now. The Devil's favorite 
plan for ruining souls is to lead us to put off our repent- 
ance. He does not care about our being unbelievers ; 
he tells us that the Bible is true, that there is a God, that 
the promises of pardon and of punishment, the assurance 
of heaven or hell, are all true, but there is no hurry. He 
lets us believe that repentance is quite necessary, but that 
there is no hurry about it. Be on your guard against this 
temptation. 

You must have heard of sudden deaths, and of souls 
cut off without a moment's preparation, too often to be- 
lieve the enemy when he tells you that there is no hurry. 
You, my young brethren, do not let the pleasures and 
amusements of life make you forget more serious matters. 
I heard lately of a young girl whose whole heart was given 
up to the pleasures of society. Returning one night from 
a dance, she said to her mother, " My next dress shall be 
a white one." She spoke truth : within three weeks she 
died of fever, and her next dress was the white shroud 
of the old, old fashion, death. Let us try to take the first 
step in repentance, by seeing that we have something to 
repent of. The way to find out our sins is to examine 
ourselves. Now, of all duties, self-examination is one of 



2IO CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the most neglected. We all like to look at the good 
things we have done. We are never tired of reading flat- 
tering letters and testimonials to our merit, but we do not 
like to look our sins in the face. We do not like to let 
the light in upon the secret corners and neglected places 
of our inner life. We keep them closely shut up, like a 
foul, unwholesome room ; and, like the room, the longer 
they are kept from the light and air, the worse they be- 
come. Self-examination is an unpleasant duty at first, 
without doubt. Conscience is an honest friend who does 
not flatter, and our favorite vices and faults receive names 
which we like ill to hear. 

The searching into the dark corners of our hearts is 
always distasteful. A writer says truly, " No one ever tried 
to sweep away the devil's dust without getting choked 
with some of it." But self-examination becomes less 
troublesome as we persevere with it. I have heard of a 
man who began to examine himself in this way. He took 
two sheets of writing-paper, one gilt-edged, and the other 
black-edged. He began to write down on the gilt-edged 
paper all the good acts which he could remember to have 
done, whilst the black-edged sheet was reserved for sins. 
He began with the good things first, — we always do so, — 
but he found that the paper was not so quickly filled as he 
expected. Then he turned to the other paper, and found 
that the list of wrong things done and said and thought 
grew very rapidly. When he looked at the list of good 
things again, he discovered that many of them had been 
done from a wrong motive, and ought to be transferred 
to the black- edged paper. Many things, too, which had 



CONVICTION OF SIN, 2 1 1 

seemed very good at first, on second thoughts appeared 
doubtful ; and at last the black-edged paper was as full as 
it could be, whilst plenty of room remained on the other. 
Some such plan as this would be very useful to a beginner 
in self-examination. 

What we want to do is to get hold of our sin or sins, 
and to look them in the face. They tell us that after his 
great fall, David wrote his sins upon the palms of his 
hands, that he might ever behold them, as he says, " my 
sin is ever before me." It is only when we see our faults 
thus, that we shall turn to the love and mercy of Jesus 
for pardon. A very old Jewish legend relates, that when 
Absalom perished, David saw hell opened, and his son 
tormented in the lowest place. There are said to be seven 
divisions in the place of torment ; and, when David, in 
his agony of sorrow, cried, "O Absalom, my son, my 
son ! " he uttered his name or title seven times, and at 
each cry of love, Absalom was delivered from one of the 
mansions of the lost. Dear brethren, let us believe that 
though we may have fallen into the nethermost hell of 
sin, yet, on our true repentance, the great love of Jesus 
will draw us forth once more into the land of righteous-, 
ness. 

When we begin to examine ourselves, we need a guide, 
a standard by which we may measure our acts. We have 
such a standard in God's law, as written in the Ten Com- 
mandments. Now, I know that many people have a 
wrong notion about those commandments. They either 
regard them as being written for the Jews long ago, and 
as being out of date now ; or else they take them liter- 



212 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

ally, and think that if they have kept the letter of the law, 
all is well. Brethren, it is the spirit, not the letter, of the 
law, which we have to do with. These laws of God are 
for all time, and for all people ; and we shall find, when 
we try ourselves by their standard, that we have sinned 
when we least thought it. 

Try yourselves with these solemn questions, remember- 
ing that God's laws are for you, and to-day ; and may God 
help you to see your sin, and to repent of it, for Jesus 
Christ's sake ! 



XXXVI. 

GTftfrtgsfirat Bag of 2Lent. 
MARRIAGE AT CANA. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. 

This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested 
forth his glory ; and his disciples believed on him. — John ii. n. 

The second chapter of St. John's Gospel begins by 
telling us of the first miracle which Jesus wrought. 

Now, it is worth while noting, in order that we may get 
from the narrative the lesson it is intended to convey in 
all its completeness, that a Hebrew wedding was celebrated 
in a very festive and joyous manner. A feast is given in 
the bridegroom's house. Neighbors and friends are in- 
vited. They come clad in appropriate garments. They 



MARRIAGE AT CANA. 213 

feast merrily. As soon as the sun has gone down, the 
bridegroom and his friends set out in joyful procession, 
accompanied by singers and torch-bearers, to escort the 
bride to her new home. She returns with them, wearing 
a long veil of pure white, and crowned with flowers. The 
festivities are prolonged for as many as seven days, — 
sometimes even for a longer time ; and the feasting is 
accompanied by the singing of songs and by pleasant 
games. 

Festivity such as this, Jesus and his disciples come to 
share in. Let us remember that the friends of Jesus and 
Mary, at whose house these marriage festivities are taking 
place, are most likely poor. It is quite natural, when the 
poor gather together for the purpose of merry-making, 
that one and all should contribute food or wine to the 
feast. Such is perhaps the case at the marriage feast we 
are now considering. We read that after a while, when 
the wine runs short, the mother of Jesus says to him, 
"They have no wine." She doubtless takes a friendly 
interest in all the arrangements made for securing the 
success of the festivities ; her quick eye has seen that the 
wine will soon cease to flow ; and her kindly feeling to- . 
wards her friends prompts her to try to secure that the 
feast shall not begin to flag for lack of wine. She knows 
that as yet her Son has not brought any contribution to 
the festivities ; so she comes to him, and quietly tells 
him that there is no wine, as if to suggest that it will 
be a graceful act on his part to provide some for her 
friends. Jesus says unto her, " Woman, what have I to 
do with thee? mine hour is not yet come." The Eng- 



214 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

lish translation gives a harshness to the words which, in 
the original, they have not. If we were to read, " Dear 
lady, what have I to do with thee?" or " Dear lady, this 
care is altogether mine/' we should get nearer to the 
sense of the original. 

Mary does not reply. She is the handmaid of the 
Lord. It is for her to wait and see. So she stores up 
in her heart the words her Divine Son now addresses 
to her. That she is not displeased, her own words to 
the servants show: "Whatsoever he saith unto you, do 
it." She possibly feels an inward assurance that in his 
own way he is going to help on the festivity in which 
he is sharing ; and so she bids the servants be ready 
to do his will. 

Now, there are standing near the door of the dwelling 
six stone vessels, with water in them so that the guests 
may lave their hands before sitting down to eat. These 
Jesus bids the servants fill with fresh water. And they 
fill them up to the brim. He saith unto them, " Draw 
out now, and bear unto the governor of the feast." He, 
tasting it, finds that it is wine. 

At this beginning of miracles, my text tells us, Jesus 
manifested forth his glory. And his disciples, beholding 
his glory, — the glory as of the only-begotten of the 
Father, — believed on him. This was the beginning 
of the manifestation of his Divine glory by miraculous 
means; but it was not the beginning of the glory itself. 
That had been ever with him. In that quiet home in the 
flowery vale of Nazareth, where he grew up by the Vir- 
gin's side, increasing in wisdom and in favor with God 



MARRIAGE AT CANA. 215 

and man, the Divine glory abode with him just as much 
as during the three short years devoted to his divine mis- 
sion. As the son of the carpenter, working at the lowly 
trade himself, he dwelt among his kinsfolk; and in him 
they saw naught but grace and truth. The Divine glory 
was with him alike when he manifested it forth by work- 
ing a mighty miracle, and when he simply went about 
doing good. It did not suddenly light upon him from 
heaven, to speedily return whence it had come, but was 
with him unceasingly. The power also of showing forth 
his glory had been his since his birth ; that was not a 
new addition to his heavenly endowments. But hitherto 
it had not revealed itself to human gaze in any startling 
guise, such as we read of in the story of this wedding 
feast. And yet there had been something divine under- 
lying our Lord's early life of loving obedience ; and it is 
for us who acknowledge Jesus as both God and man, to 
recognize his divinity even when veiled the most by his 
humanity. The Divine glory, which so far had only been 
recognized as the perfection of human grace, suddenly 
burst forth in a wonderful way, — suddenly became visible 
in a miracle. The miracle was performed, not that men. 
might be lost in w r onder at the deed itself, but that 
thereby the glory of Jesus might be manifested to them, 
— the glory which lay infolded within his daily life of 
goodness and love. 

And thus, my friends, may we rise to one of the grand 
lessons which this wonderful Gospel story teaches us, — 
that a miracle is not performed that we may behold the 
Divine power only in the miracle, but to manifest to us 



2l6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the everlasting glory of the Lord ; the ever-present love 
and power which at all times are working, though ever so 
slowly and silently, for the good of mankind. That we 
may know and confess that our eyesight is a gift from the 
Lord, we are led at one time to contemplate the Divine 
Son of God opening the eyes of one who was born blind. 
That we may give glory to God for the powers of mind 
with which he has endowed us, and recognize his guiding 
hand in the slow restoration to reason of those whom 
madness has assailed, we see Jesus at other times heal- 
ing those possessed with evil spirits. That we may ever 
give thanks to Him from whom we receive our daily 
bread, we are led to the hill-side, to see Christ the Lord 
dispense the loaves miraculously multiplied to the hungry 
multitude. That we may acknowledge that it is God's 
blessing upon our daily toil which enables it to yield us 
what we require for our worldly well-being, we are taken 
to the side of the lake of Gennesaret, to see the fisher- 
men, who had toiled all night and taken nothing, let 
down their nets again at our Lord's bidding, and at once 
enclose a great multitude of fishes. That we may ever 
be mindful that the Lord is constantly at work turning 
water into wine on every vine-clad slope, as he ripens 
the sap into the rich juice of the grape, we are bidden 
to come to the humble wedding-feast, where, at the word 
of Jesus, water-pots filled with water yield a supply of 
richest wine. 

Let us not forget, my friends, the great lesson which 
Christ's miracles teach us. Let the thought that God is 
ever about our path, ordering our ways and working for 



MARRIAGE AT CANA. 217 

our good, ever be present in our minds, so that we may 
not miss the divineness and the glory which daily surround 
us. And as we read of the glory of Christ manifesting 
itself in miracles, let us ever be mindful that He whom we 
see so clearly at work on occasions when a law higher 
than ordinary natural laws comes into play, is all along 
working for us, though no miracle is seen. If we take 
this important lesson to heart, the miracle will to us, as 
it did to the disciples, manifest forth the glory of Christ. 
We shall see his divineness not simply at the moment 
when a miracle is performed, but in all the acts of his 
life, — in his saying, " Son, thy sins be forgiven thee," as 
when he says, " Rise up and walk;" in his life of self- 
sacrifice ; in his forgiveness of his enemies, who knew not 
what they did ; and most assuredly, in his love for man- 
kind, for whom he died on the shameful cross. 

But there is another lesson which the Gospel story we 
have been dwelling upon teaches us. The presence of 
our Lord at a wedding adorned and beautified and sanc- 
tified the marriage union. He pronounced it to be a 
holy estate. He raised it from the degradation to which 
human vileness had dragged it down, and in which hu- 
man austerity had condemned it to abide. Henceforth, 
the feelings of the human heart, which the severely re- 
ligious among the Jews had been in the habit of regarding 
as carnal and debased, were to be held as sacred. The 
relationship of husband and wife, and all things involved 
in that relationship, received at the marriage feast at 
Cana an exaltation the influence of which we feel in our 
family life now. Human affection and love, the yearning 



218 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

of a human heart for the abiding sympathy of another 
heart, Jesus declared to be holy. He taught — as you 
all know — that in wedded life we are to see a type of 
the heavenly life which awaits the soul, "the marriage 
of the soul to her eternal Lord," "the mystical union 
that is betwixt Christ and his Church." Jesus thus raised 
marriage from the lowly estate into which it had fallen, to 
be, in this typical way, of sacramental import. 

Again, let us remember that Jesus and his disciples 
were present, not simply at a marriage, but at a marriage 
feast, — at a feast prolonged through several days, where 
wine flowed freely, and voices were uplifted in joyful 
songs, and the merry-making was hearty and boisterous. 
So, then, as it was the glory of Christ to declare the 
sacredness of the marriage union, it was also his glory to 
assert the sacredness of human enjoyments. Think well 
upon this, my friends. It may seem strange at first. It 
did so to the strict Jews in our Lord's time. They could 
not understand a religious teacher who kept not aloof 
from scenes of worldly pleasure-making. They said 
Jesus came eating and drinking, that he was a gluttonous 
man and a wine-bibber, a friend to publicans and sin- 
ners. Both they and the common people could better 
understand John the Baptist's claims as a teacher of 
repentance and righteousness. He lived an ascetic life. 
He cared not for wine, choice food he despised ; he re- 
frained from marriage ; he turned all his human feelings 
into the channel of penitence and mortification; he 
sacrificed the whole of life for the culture of the inward 
soul. The Jews could look upon such a life as that with 



MARRIAGE AT CAN A. 219 

admiration. But Jesus was a complete puzzle to them. 
And no wonder. For he came to teach men to live, not 
a life of austerity out of the world, but a life of godliness 
in the world. He came to teach men to lead a new life 
— a life supernatural and heavenly, it is true, but not un- 
natural and unearthly — a life in which the supernatural 
and the heavenly caught up, as it were, the natural and 
the earthly, and consecrated them. He thus taught us 
to consider that Christian perfection is best arrived at, 
not by purposely inwrapping ourselves in sternness and 
gloom, but by accepting with thankfulness life's gentle 
pleasures, as we accept with resignation all its chastening 
sorrows. 

The last lesson the marriage-feast and the miracle 
thereat teach us is one I will touch upon but briefly. 
Christ entered the lowly dwelling in Cana, and turned 
water into wine. There is another lowly dwelling into 
which Christ is ever desirous to enter, — the human soul. 
" Behold," he says, "I stand at the door, and knock; if 
any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come 
in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." Yes, 
my friends, Christ will come to us, — will pass over the 
humble threshold of our hearts, will abide with us, and 
enrich us with blessedness and joy. He will bestow upon 
us a consecration we are in need of. He will turn our 
poor earthly joys, that fade away as the flower of the 
field, into heavenly joys that bloom forever. He will 
turn what is common into what is noble, what is impure 
into what is pure, what is unholy into what is holy. He 
will bless our cup of earthly gladness so that it shall run 



2 20 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

over with heavenly joy. He will turn the water of our 
earthly life into heavenly wine. 



XXXVII. 

2Tf)trt2^ec0riti JBag of 3Lent. 
PENITENTIAL CONFESSION 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 

I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord ; and thou forgavest the 
iniquity of my sin. — Ps. xxxii. 5. 

I have read of a simple countryman who bought a 
telescope, never having seen one before. In using it he 
put the wrong end to his eye. Presently his wife with 
her unassisted sight saw a wild bull coming, and warned 
her husband to escape. But the countryman, looking 
through his telescope, declared that the bull was five 
miles off, and that there was plenty of time ; and the 
next moment he was tossed in the air. Ah ! brethren, 
how many of us are looking at the future through the 
wrong end of the telescope ! Now I want you to go on 
in the way of repentance, by confessing your sins to God. 
It is not enough to confess that you are sinners ; it is not 
enough to call yourselves miserable sinners, and to say 
with a sigh that you are not what you should be. Why 
are we not? Because we are contented to remain as we 
are. There are people who tell us they are great sinners, 



PENITENTIAL CONFESSION 



as though it were a natural and right thing that they 
should be. These persons who parade their sinfulness 
generally before others are the least likely to look their 
sins in the face, and to confess them to God. What you 
have to do is to take your sins by name to God, one by 
one. You must know them first individually, and then 
you must confess them individually. There are three 
forms of confession which you may use, — a general and 
public confession in church, a private confession which 
you make to God when you kneel to pray at home, and 
a private confession under special circumstances to God's 
priest. 

I speak first of the General Confession, which you find 
in your Prayer-books in the Morning and Evening Ser- 
vice. Now, you have said this confession hundreds of 
times. How often have you felt it, meant it, realized it ? 
Think what a sin it is to kneel down, to call on God in 
heaven to hear your confession, and then to utter the 
words without thinking about them, or feeling them ! 
And yet you know that you have done this often. I have 
heard of two women in church who had been talking and 
thinking of their dress, and when the confession began 
they looked at their prayer-books, and found them up- 
side down. Dear friends, when we pretend to confess 
our sins to God in church, are not many of our prayer- 
books, yes, and our prayers too, -upside down? When 
you said the words of the General Confession just now, 
of what were you thinking ? You said, " We have erred 
and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep." Did you 
think when and how you had strayed out of God's way, 



222 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the way of holiness? "We have followed too much the 
devices and desires of our own hearts." Did you try to 
recall the special desire which was wrong, yet which you 
followed? Did you try to remember against what holy 
law you had offended, what things you had done amiss, 
what duties you had left undone ? Or were you thinking 
of your neighbor's dress, or to-morrow's work or to- 
morrow's pleasure? Be honest with yourselves. Perhaps 
you were thinking how exactly the confession suited your 
neighbor. That man who owes you money, he has wan- 
dered like a lost sheep ! that acquaintance who slighted 
you, she has done what she ought not to have done ! 
Ah ! brethren, but what say you of yourselves? You are 
confessing your own sins, remember. Whilst you are 
thinking of some one else's bad temper, or meanness, or 
deceit, you are forgetting to look into your own heart, 
forgetting to recall the last time when you were angry or 
mean or deceitful. There is for us all the great danger 
that we should get into a habit of saying the confession 
without thinking at all, or with our thoughts on the faults 
of others, instead of on our own. Try to mend this, 
brethren. Get your sin or sins before you, then think 
of them, think what they must be like in God's eyes, in 
the eyes of him who died for you : once feel their true 
character, and you will confess them with your whole 
heart. I remember once, when preaching at a mission, I 
noticed a young man in the congregation who was listen- 
ing with a careless, laughing face. Presently I spoke to 
the people about confession, as I am speaking to you ; 
and then I knelt down among them, and asked those who 



PENITENTIAL CONFESSION. 223 

really felt what I said, to repeat the confession after me. 
I heard some one close behind me sobbing ; and when I 
rose from my knees, I saw that the young man who had 
laughed at the sermon cried when he confessed his sins 
to God. Try. then, for the future to make your public 
confession of sins in church a reality, not a mockery, 
not a sham. But this public confession is not enough. 
Every night when you kneel to say your private prayers, 
try to recall the sins, the mistakes, the failures, of the past 
day, and take them to God. Tell him of the sins of act, 
and of thought, and of word ; and then, when you have 
confessed your sin with an earnest resolve to try to do 
better, you will lie down with the blessed assurance that 
you are forgiven. 

There is yet a third form of confession, — that which is « 
made to God's priest. In the exhortation in the Com- 
munion Service, people who are in trouble about their 
spiritual state are bidden to come to God's priest, " and 
open their grief, that by the ministry of God's Holy Word 
they may receive the benefit of absolution, together with 
ghostly counsel and advice, to the quieting of their con- 
science, and avoiding all scruple and doubtfulness." 
Now, without doubt, there are times when this kind of 
confession is absolutely necessary. People often say, " I 
can confess my sins to God : " but the question is, Do 
you confess your sins to God? What think you of the 
way in which some of you have pretended to confess to 
God for years part? There are, believe me, times when 
the help of a friend and adviser, one a sinner like our- 
selves, one tempted like as you are, yet one whose life is 



224 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

dedicated to the ministry of holy things, is requisite. I 
would not have you practise habitual confession to a 
priest. I do not believe in a religious life which is lived 
merely from one confession to another. Such a life be- 
comes weak, nerveless, unhealthy. It is like a life sup- 
ported by medicine, instead of by wholesome food. But, 
as medicine is necessary sometimes, so is this kind of 
confession. Do not shrink back from this means of grace 
from a sense of shame ; if you are not ashamed to com- 
mit a sin, you ought not to be ashamed to confess it. 
May God lead you to this second step in the way of 
repentance, and make you brave ! 



XXXVIII. 

&f)frtg*ti)irt Bag ot 3Lent. 
DIVES AND HIS BRETHREN. 

REV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. 

I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my 
father's house : for I have five brethren ; that he may testify unto them, 
lest they also come into this place of torment. — St. Luke xvi. 27, 28. 

Our Lord, in narrating the story of the rich man and 
Lazarus, — that strange story with its first scene laid in 
this world, its second scene in the world invisible to us, 
— would use such expressions with regard to the myste- 
rious world beyond this as would best convey his mean- 
ing to those to whom he was speaking. Such a term 



DIVES AND HIS BRETHREN, 225 

as "Abraham's bosom" has never been adopted into the 
phraseology of the Christian Church ; but the idea in- 
tended to be conveyed by that term — doubtless a familiar 
one to the Jews who looked forward hopefully to a life 
beyond the grave — has all along been cherished by 
Christians. The thought of re-union with the departed 
has acquired in Christendom a vitality which has never 
been granted to it in any other of the religions of the 
world. A Christian looks forward with hope to a life of 
union in the future world with all he has ever known and 
loved in this. He looks forward, too, to a union not 
simply with those from amongst the circle of his own 
friends who have joined the glorious band of the re- 
deemed, but with those also whom having not seen he 
has nevertheless loved with a deep abiding love, — with 
fellow-Christians of his own time, the echo of whose words 
has reached his ears, the story of whose deeds of charity 
bas brought a thrill of joy to him ; and with Christians 
of all times, whose memory is dear to him ; with the saints 
who have walked this earth, and whose presence is ever 
haunting his thoughts, whose lives have been such a reve- 
lation of divine gentleness and love that to think of them 
is a tearful delight. All the hopes of this sort which enter 
into the daily thought of a Christian are summed up, 
along with other cherished hopes, in the one phrase, " I 
believe in the communion of saints." Around this there 
is a rich cluster of longings and fervent desires. The 
Jews of old — such of them, at all events, as clung closely 
to the thought of immortality — had the like assurance of 
the union of the faithful departed in one loving celestial 



226 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

brotherhood ; and it seemed to them that no phrase had 
so concentred in it all their thoughts of loving union with 
those who had gone before, as the phrase "Abraham's 
bosom." We ourselves embody the idea of close union 
on earth in the words "bosom friend." The union of our 
Lord with the Father is in St. John's Gospel spoken of 
in like manner : " the only-begotten Son, which is in the 
bosom of the Father." The phrase must be taken as 
expressive of the most intimate union which could be 
thought of by the Jews as existing between those who 
had become united forever with the Lord. Lazarus had 
entered into that union with those who had gone before 
him, with all the faithful departed, and with him who was 
known to the generations which followed him as the 
father of the faithful and as the friend of God. The rich 
man had not entered into that union. His thoughts on 
earth had always been running in one groove, — the groove 
of self. The texture of his inward spirit had been woven 
with the threads of pride and thoughtlessness and self- 
ishness. He had lived simply in order to be clothed in 
purple and fine linen, and to fare sumptuously every day. 
He had not lived for the sake of any one beyond his 
house. Why should he trouble himself about a wretched 
beggar lying at his gate ? He saw no reason why. So 
that when he left this world, there had been wrought into 
his inner being no feelings of sympathy with those whose 
lives had been animated with a divine unselfishness and 
with tenderest human love. And when he reached that 
bourn whence no traveller returns, he was startled by find- 
ing himself conscious that there was a great gulf fixed 



DIVES AND HIS BRETHREN. 227 

between himself and the spirits and souls of the righteous 
men of old ; that he was sundered from them by an abyss 
that could not be passed ; that the abode for which he 
had prepared himself, and in which he could not do other 
than abide, was far away from the abodes of those whom 
he was now compelled to recognize as gathered together 
in a union of exaltation and blessedness. He was more 
especially startled by finding that the very beggar who 
had lain at his gate smitten with a lingering disease, and 
of whose very existence he had done his best to be un- 
conscious, was now the sharer of a higher bliss than he 
himself was fitted for. There had on earth been a great 
gulf — a great social chasm — between himself and Laza- 
rus, but that was a chasm which might have been bridged 
over. It might have been bridged over with sympathy, 
with charity. He was then rich : Lazarus was poor. He 
was surrounded by every earthly comfort : Lazarus was 
in the lowest depth of suffering. If from his abundance 
he had ministered to the wants of the poor helpless one ; 
if he had shared some of the good things which were his 
with Lazarus, whose lot was amongst the evil things of 
life; if he had thought for Lazarus, and not simply for 
himself; if his thought had manifested itself in loving 
deeds, — the gulf on earth might have been crossed. But 
it was not crossed ; and now it was perpetuated in a great 
and awful gulf, which severed him from the companion- 
ship of just and noble souls ; which left him fixed and 
rooted and bound in fetters to that self to which his whole 
life on earth had been devoted to minister. 

My friends, there is ever a great gulf fixed between 



228 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

selfishness and love ; between that state in which the 
soul dwells in loveless isolation, and that in which she is 
enriched with the divine life of charity. If we are not 
brought into union with one another here, we shall find 
ourselves severed yonder. If we who live on the sunny 
side of life here give no heed to the voice of distress 
which is ever raised by those who live in the cold shade 
of adversity ; if w r e check all upspringing sympathy ; if 
we put to silence the whisperings of the still small voice 
within us bidding us act as ministers of consolation to 
suffering humanity, — we are but helping to widen the gulf 
between ourselves and those who have entered into a 
diviner life. Whatever companionship we are preparing 
ourselves for in that invisible world whither we all are 
going, there will be none so dreary, so awful, as compan- 
ionship with self. Whatever tortures we are here prepar- 
ing for ourselves, there will be none so exquisite as those 
which will spring up from regrets over a life wasted here, 
and over deeds of goodness left undone. If the life which 
has no other aim than the welfare of self, the comfort of 
self, the pleasure of self, be commenced here, it will be 
perpetuated in the world to which we are all hastening. 
The severance which we are initiating here between our- 
selves and the higher life of humanity will be continued 
there. The thoughts and desires which here vibrate not 
in unison with the aspirations of redeemed humanity will 
there be a torment to us. With such thoughts clinging 
to us and refusing to depart from us, it will be impossible 
for us to hold communion with the blessed ones who on 
earth rose above the life of selfishness, and who in heaven 



DIVES AND HIS BRETHREN. 229 

are ascending into more perfect union with the Lord and 
with his chosen ones. 

But though this Gospel narrative reveals to us the lot of 
him whom we know by no other designation than the rich 
man, — reveals Jiis lot to us as one of torment, — reveals 
his state in the invisible world as one of torturing self- 
accusation, — there is disclosed to us a gleam of comfort 
which bids us think of him as one who in Hades, in the 
hidden place, in the abode of the spirits cf men, is not 
lost to all tender and compassionate feeling. At the close 
of his piteous appeal to Abraham, his thoughts go back to 
his father's house on earth, and to his five brethren there. 
" I pray thee that thou wouldest send Lazarus to my 
father's house : for I have five brethren ; that he may tes- 
tify unto them, lest they also come into this place of tor- 
ment." He had five brethren on earth, dwelling in the 
enjoyment of riches as he himself had been, living the 
same selfish life that he had lived, caring not what voice 
of distress might be uplifted at their gate, thinking only 
of their own luxurious ease. And there entered into his 
mind the desire that they should live differently, that they 
should depart from the selfish ways in- which he had 
walked so steadfastly ; that they should not persevere in 
that forgetfulness of others which had brought him into 
a state of dreadful isolation from all ennobling compan- 
ionship, into a state of awful union with self-torturing 
thoughts. He would have them enter upon the path of 
duty and usefulness which he himself had spurned. He 
would have them begin on earth that life of sympathy 
and charity from which he was now an outcast ; he would 



230 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

have them enter upon it while still on earth, in order that 
they might afterwards progress along it in heaven. He 
might have desired otherwise. He might have wished 
that they should continue in the life of selfishness, so that 
they might be sharers with him in the rewards of selfish- 
ness. He might have found some sort of wild delight in 
dwelling upon the thought that the five who had been 
brethren with him in thoughtless luxury, in selfish resolves 
to live in forgetfulness of others, would by and by be 
brethren with him in the place of torment in which he 
then abode. But he did not : he thought otherwise. And 
though his thoughts with regard to them were doubtless 
torturing thoughts, though the desire that they might 
escape the doom of isolation from the great life of pro- 
gressive union with God might be one which would give 
additional anguish to his soul ; still, that he should be 
possessed by the sad desire, was better for him than that 
he should wildly wish for their companionship with him 
in ruin. 

In these words of his in which he entreats that a mes- 
senger may be sent to his five brethren, we may see that 
he had not sunk to the lowest depth of evil possible for 
a human soul. But the lesson we have to learn for our- 
selves is one which enjoins us to enter into the divine life 
of goodness and charity while still on this earth. For, if 
we do not, we shall find, when we pass to the world be- 
yond this, that a great gulf exists between ourseives and 
those who are united with one another and with the Lord 
in holy love ; we shall find ourselves in companionship 
with torturing thoughts, in companionship with wrathful- 



CHRIST'S NEW COMMANDMENT. 231 

ness, outside the circle of redeemed humanity. my 
friends ! let our great aim in this life be to enter into union 
with the Lord, to live out his divine life of charity and 
sympathy ; to speak ever the words of love, and to do 
ever the deeds of love ; and to trust ever in the Lord's 
guidance ; to believe that union with him now, means 
union with him and with all his blessedness throughout 
all eternity : in which union, may you and I enter and 
ever abide ! 



XXXIX. 

3T{)frtrj=fourtf) Bng of 3Ltnt. 
CHRIST S NEW COMMANDMENT. 

REV. J. W. PARKER, A.M. 

A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another ; as I 
have loved you, that ye also love one another. — John xiii. 34. 

The traitor Judas Iscariot had just left the upper room 
where our Lord and his apostles were assembled the 
night before the crucifixion. That departure of Judas 
from our Lord and his faithful ones was in some way a 
critical time in the order of those circumstances which 
preceded our Lord's betrayal and death. It has been 
thought that our Lord's words point to some great vic- 
tory over sin and the Devil, more than could be well 
understood by the rest of the disciples, more than we also 



232 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

can understand. But we can understand how very hate- 
ful must have been the presence of Judas at that holy 
assembly, how the all-holy, sinless Jesus must have shrunk 
from personal fellowship and communion with one whose 
fearful wickedness he knew. Judas Iscariot must have 
been there as the author of evil himself, and his rejection 
from the holy table in some sort like the rejection of the 
Devil at our Lord's temptation. Thus the discovery of 
Judas, though not known at the time by the rest of the 
disciples, was a new triumph over evil ; and the departure 
of Judas, an acknowledgment of defeat. We may, per- 
haps, thus gain some insight into the meaning * of our 
Lord's words on the occasion of Judas's departure : 
" Now is the Son of man glorified, and God is glorified 
in him. If God be glorified in him, God shall also glorify 
him in himself, and shall straightway glorify him." 

Our Lord's betrayal unto death was indeed but the 
setting forth his glory as the Saviour of men. His death 
was but the introduction to a larger measure of glory. 
As the Son of man, he would, when lifted up on the cross, 
draw all men unto him. As the Son of man, exalted to 
God's right hand, all power and dominion would be given 
to him. So were the final results of the betrayal in the 
first place foreshadowed upon the Redeemer's mind, and 
he spake of that accumulation of glory as already im- 
parted to him. But at that momentous hour it was not 
long that he left his disciples, even for such divine con- 
templations. He goes on, " Little children, yet a little 
while I am with you. Ye shall seek me, and as I said 
unto the Jews, Whither I go ye cannot come, so now I 



CHRIST'S NEW COMMANDMENT. 233 

say unto you." Then follow the words of the text : " A 
new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one 
another ; as I have loved you, that ye also love one an- 
other." It may be fitting now that we should with all 
reverence inquire in what sense the commandment was 
" new " which the Lord then gave. In every sense of 
the word, indeed, it was not a new commandment, that 
men should love each other. " Thou shalt love thy 
neighbor as thyself," was the second great commandment 
of the law, and that which was the matter of a command- 
ment in the law was so plainly founded on true principles 
of human nature, that heathens could not fail to recognize 
it as right that they at least, who were of the same nation, 
kindred, or family, should live in friendship and love. 
What, then, is the meaning of this new commandment 
from the Redeemer's lips at this most solemn hour? Are 
his words suggested by the fearful crime of Judas ? that 
as he fell by yielding to a base temptation, casting away 
thereby all love for his Master, and giving him to death 
for the gratification of his covetousness, so the rest of the 
disciples might learn by his fate the need of being more 
fully established in mutual love? Or, rather, is it not 
that he would make the commandment of mutual love 
new by unfolding a higher motive for such love, and still 
more by setting forth in his passion and death a more 
divine and perfect example ? 

Henceforth, then, it would be a duty on the part of all 
the disciples of Jesus, to cultivate a love according to the 
type of this the new commandment. It would be a mat- 
ter of thought and care, to distinguish such a love from 



234 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

all other affections which might bear some resemblance 
to it. It would not, indeed, be a feeling antagonistic to 
other affections, by which men are drawn together, and 
are kept in love and unity together; it would simply be 
above and in addition to them. Thus it would be no 
new commandment to urge husbands and wives, parents 
and children, brothers and sisters, to love each other ; be- 
cause they stand in so close a relationship to each other, 
that, apart from the estrangement caused by selfishness, 
it is natural that they should so love each other. Neither 
is it any new commandment, that those who are natives 
of the same country, and are connected together by com- 
mon-national interests, should have an affection for each 
other on this ground alone. That men so united should 
be willing to do and suffer much for each other, is to be 
accounted for by reasons perfectly natural. Friendships, 
again, and very close and binding relationships, are 
created by common sentiments and tastes, and men are 
led to do noble and self-sacrificing deeds for each other 
under the impulse of such feelings ; but yet all attach- 
ments which are obviously based upon such foundations 
fall short of the requirements of the new commandment. 
None had ever loved his brother as Jesus had loved his 
disciples. None had loved on the same principle and 
motive. He loved his disciples — yea, he loved all men 
— because he wished to save them from sin and hell. 
And the new commandment to his disciples was that they 
should love each other as he had loved them. Again, in 
all earthly and natural motives of affection, there would 
appear to be some obvious reciprocal advantage to be 



CHRIST'S NEW COMMANDMENT, 235 

derived. We love them that love us. But in the love 
which the Redeemer of men exhibited, there was no limit 
or reserve. He loved even those who hated him. He 
died for those who murdered him. They, therefore, who 
would obey his new commandment, will not forget that 
aspect and feature of the love which he had for men. 
They will endeavor to cultivate an equally unselfish love. 
They will seek that entire freedom from low vindictive 
passions, which will alone suffer the growth within them 
of so unselfish a love. The Redeemer of men had his 
love put to the test of death, and it bore that test. So 
will they who humbly follow his footsteps pray that they 
may be put to no severity of trial which they may not be 
able to endure. They will pray that they may sooner die 
than do any act, or suffer any act to be done, which 
would be irreconcilable with the presence of a love, per- 
fect in its degree, after the pattern of Christ's new com- 
mandment. 

But there is yet another sense in which our Lord may 
be understood as giving to his disciples a new command- 
ment. He was now upon the very point of instituting 
the sacrament of his body and blood, in the institution of 
which his words were in all respects a new commandment. 
"This do in remembrance of me." It would seem that 
an act of love so amazing in its performance, and in its 
results so world- embracing, as the death of the Son of 
God for man's sins, should not be left to the unassisted 
memory of man t to be borne in mind by each generation 
of men, or by each individual. He himself was not con- 
tent to give a charge to his disciples that they should 



236 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

think about, or speak to each other about his death. 
They must also " do " what he told them to " do " in 
remembrance of him, and that " act " which they would 
do would be the truest memorial of his death. By dili- 
gently and with devoutest reverence observing his com- 
mandment, they would also learn to estimate in some 
degree the extent of his love for them. So would they 
also have before their minds a pattern of that love which 
they should have for each other. Thus we discern that 
in the blessed sacrament of his body and blood, our Lord 
designed that his disciples should seek and find a perpet- 
tual nutriment and sustenance to the highest and holiest 
aspirations of their regenerated nature. In it would they 
be united mystically, but really, with him, their sinful 
bodies made clean by his body, and their souls washed 
with his most precious blood. In it would they be most 
effectually united with each other, inasmuch as all would 
be one body, as all were " partakers of that one bread." 

Let us seek, then, brethren, to fulfil the new command- 
ment of Christ, and love one another. Let us seek to 
make all our communions with him have an intimate prac- 
tical bearing upon our thoughts and daily actions, mould- 
ing and tempering them in accordance with the mind of 
Christ. If we are earnestly striving to grow in the love 
of God and man, let us not make the mistake of choosing 
our own way of promoting that growth. If God has con- 
descended to unfold to us the mystery of our soul's life, 
how it lives, and how sustenance is administered to it, it 
would be supreme folly to overlook his advice. But 
surely he has so advised us. As surely as Jesus Christ 



REDEEMING GRACE. 237 

came into the world, and died upon the cross, so surely 
has he taught by precept, by parable, by the last bequest 
of his love, the institution of the holy sacrament of love, 
that he himself, by a mystical indwelling, is the spiritual 
life of his disciples. Such being his teaching, what can 
be our duty but obedience? We cannot compound for 
such obedience by strength of mind, by skill in contro- 
versy, or by any subtilty of misinterpretation applied to 
the Redeemer's words. We shall grow in love, if we obey. 
We shall keep the new commandment, if we have the 
spirit to keep it. We shall acquire and retain the spirit 
by reverenUally honoring, not despising or profanely, 
carelessly, and irregularly using, the means which Christ 
himself appointed and consecrated ; namely, prayer and 
the holy sacraments. 



XL. 

iStmtiag before ISaster. 
REDEEMING GRACE. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich 
yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be 
rich. — 2 Cor. viii. 9. 

Some become poor through misfortune, some through 
improvidence, some through criminal indulgence, some 
through stanch adherence to duty. Here we are reminded 



238 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

of One who was originally rich beyond all human con- 
ception, but became poorer than the poorest that ever 
trod the earth — not because he desired the change, nor 
because he could not help it, nor because it was his 
bounden duty, nor because a superior bade him, nor 
because the perishing implored him, but because he loved 
us with an infinite love — beyond all imagination of men 
or angels. 

" 'Tvvas mercy moved his heavenly mind, 
And pity brought him down." 

What saw he in this revolted province of his boundless 
empire, that he should come to seek and save the self- 
destroyed? Among all the myriads of Adam's children, 
what one quality was there worthy of his love? Who 
solicited his aid, or repented of his own sin? What ob- 
ligation pressed or necessity impelled the Saviour ? Had 
he remained indifferent to our helpless woes in the 
heavenly mansions, who could have impeached one of his 
perfections? Had he smitten this guilty planet from its 
orbit, and sent it staggering among the stars — a repro- 
bate world — a warning to the universe of the ruin 
wrought by sin — might not the minstrelsy of heaven 
have chanted over its catastrophe — " Just and true are 
thy ways, thou King of saints ! " Perfectly he foreknew 
all that awaited him in his mission of mercy ; yet with 
what divine alacrity did he vacate his throne, leave the 
bosom of his Father, and retire from the adoring host of 
heaven — as if a loftier throne, a more loving bosom, and 
a worthier concourse of worshippers, were ready to greet 
him in the world to which he came ! 



REDEEMING GRACE. 239 

" Oh, love that passeth knowledge ! words are vain ! 
Language is lost in wonder so divine ! " 

How much we commiserate the poor who have seen 
better days ! His better days what human art shall de- 
pict or finite mind conceive? Lift up your thoughts to 
the glorious state of the Eternal Son in the bosom of 
God the Father. As yet the worlds are not ; no star 
reflects his smile, nor seraph chants his praise ; but, pos- 
sessed of every Divine excellence in the most transcend- 
ent degree, he has within himself an infinite source of 
happiness. Now he arises to the work of creation, and 
myriads of self-luminous suns, each with his retinue of 
rejoicing planets, begin their eternal march around his 
throne. All are his, created by him and for him ; and all 
their countless billions of rational and immortal beings 
own him as their supreme Lord, and adore him as the 
sole giver of every good and perfect gift. Down from 
all this glory he descended into one of the poorest 
provinces of his illimitable realm, assuming the frail and 
suffering nature of its fallen people, 

" And God with God was man with men." 

Having a body and a soul like ours, he was liable to 
all our temptations and infirmities ; and suffering — the 
just for the unjust — that he might bring us to God, he 
became poorer than the poorest of those whom by his 
poverty he sought to redeem. Surely, had he so chosen, 
with all the pomp and splendor of royal state .he might 
have made his advent ; but see ! he comes as the first-born 
of an obscure family — a stable his birthplace — a manger 



240 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

his cradle ; through all the years of his youth, subject to 
his parents, and toiling at Joseph's side with the carpen- 
ter's saw and plane ; and when at the age of thirty he 
enters upon his Messianic mission, having no home but 
such as a poor fisherman can offer him at Capernaum ; 
often hungering and thirsting over the fields and fountains 
of his own creation, everywhere hated for his love and 
persecuted for his purity ; and at last basely betrayed into 
the hands of his enemies, abandoned and denied by his 
disciples, falsely accused of blasphemy, and cruelly con- 
demned to the cross ; while the powers of hell, in all 
their might and their malice, co-operate with the murder- 
ers of the Lord's Anointed ; and the loving Father, laying 
on him the iniquities of us all, withdraws from the scene 
of infamous horrors, and leaves the immaculate victim to 
die alone in the darkness. 

" O Lamb of God ! was ever pain — 
Was ever love — like thine ? " 

" What are a million of human lives," said the great 
Napoleon, " to the scheme of a man like me?" Infinitely 
more sublime was the scheme of Jesus Christ, sacrificing 
no human interest to his own ambition, but enriching all 
his followers with the durable riches of righteousness. 
Benevolence, not ambition, was the 'grand impulse of his 
action. To save mankind from sin and Satan — to 
quicken dead souls with the power of an endless life — 
he came -forth from the Father, sojourned in voluntary 
exile among rebels, and joyfully laid down his life for their 
redemption. How much the apostles write of" the riches 



REDEEMING GRACE. 241 

of his grace " ! How sweetly they assure us that he 
" hath chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and 
heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them 
that love him " ! He became poorer than we, to make us 
as rich as himself — joint-heirs with him to an inheritance 
incorruptible, undefiled, that fadeth not away, reserved for 
us in heaven. Already, indeed, the believer is rich in 
faith, rich in love, rich in peace, rich in joy, and rich 
in hope; but when the dear Lord shall return to consum- 
mate in glory the salvation thus begun by grace, the saints 
shall enter with him the everlasting kingdom, satisfied with 
his likeness and radiant with his joy. Rejoice then, O 
my brother ! in the unsearchable riches of Christ. Is the 
disinherited enriched by the restoration of his lost estate? 
Jesus has bought back for us our forfeited possessions, 
and made them ours by an everlasting covenant. Is the 
alien child enriched by adoption into the royal household, 
making him heir to the crown ? Brought nigh by redeem- 
ing blood, I become interested in all that belongs to my 
Lord, and whatever he receives from the Father I am to 
share with him in the kingdom of his glory.. His volun- 
tary poverty in my behalf makes him my Brother and 
associates me with him upon the throne.. Taking my 
earthly station, he raises me to his heavenly honors. 
Bearing my manifold infirmities, he assures me of a share 
in his infinite blessedness. Emptying himself of his glory 
for me, he fills me with all the fulness of God \ Thus we 
know the grace of our Lord Jesus^ Christ — not, indeed, 
in all the amplitude of its extension; nor in all the pleni- 
tude of its comprehension ; but adequately to our neces- 



242 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

sity as sinners, and adequately to our duty and privilege 
as Christians — we know it, and rejoice in it with un- 
speakable joy. What returns shall we make, or how 
express our gratitude ? Shall we be like him who, having 
promised Mercury part of his nuts, ate the kernels himself, 
and gave the god the shells ? Shall we not imitate the 
Macedonian churches, that first gave their own selves to 
the Lord, and then sent their liberal collections to the 
poor saints at Jerusalem? When we have given ourselves, 
what else can we withhold from him who gave all his 
wealth to enrich us, and has enriched us most by giving 
us himself ? 

"The mite my willing hand can give, 
At Jesus' feet I lay ; 
His grace the tribute will receive, 
And Heaven at large repay." 



XLI. 

JKontiarj before 3£agter, 
SYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 

REV. H N. GRIM LEY, A.M. 

Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that ye shall be scattered, 
every man to his own, and shall leave me alone ; and yet I am not alone, 
because the Father is with me. — St. John xvi. 32. 

In these words we read our Lord's desire for the 
sympathy of his earthly brethren, and at the same time 



SYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE, 243 

the expression of his assurance of the sympathy of his 
heavenly Father. The very words which speak so assur- 
ingly of his possession of the higher sympathy are thus 
allied with others which give utterance to his yearning for 
the lower sympathy. To me it seems, that, if we ponder 
well these words, we shall find that they indicate that the 
human heart ought never to be free from desires for both 
the sympathy from above and the sympathy from around, 
and that the sympathy which one heart has for another 
is divinely nurtured, and in kinship with the sympathy 
which the Lord has for every one of his earthly children. 
All through our earthly life, we feel the need of the sym- 
pathy of our fellows. A yearning for sympathy is one of 
our great ruling motives. As soon as our inner selves 
wake up to a higher life, so soon is there roused within 
us a new craving for sympathy. As soon as that great 
change comes for each one of us — the change which has 
so many phases — we are filled also with longings for 
others to share our awakening with us. Our new-found 
joy in life is one which impels us to be not content with 
the possession of it all alone. It we are possessed by the 
thought that the good Lord has put forth his hand to 
save our souls from selfishness and sinfulness, we should 
lose the great blessing bestowed upon us if we were to 
cherish it in secret isolation. Even when we are most 
conscious of Divine sympathy, we feel an intense yearn- 
ing for the sympathy of our fellows. This need for sym- 
pathy exercises upon us a compelling influence. It is 
this which urges us to associate together in various ways. 
It is this which has given rise to our famliy gatherings at 



244 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

festive times ; it is this need which brings us together to 
join in Christian worship. What a void there would be 
in life if we were altogether to forsake the assembling of 
ourselves together ; if we were never to realize the Divine 
words, " where two or three are gathered together, there 
am I in the midst of them ; " if we were never made 
glad by hearing the voices of friendly ones say unto us, 
i( Let us go to the house of the Lord." Though we 
commune with the Lord in the still chambers of our own 
hearts, and find a joy in doing so ; though we strive in 
the great cathedral of nature to enter into the commun- 
ion of praise which, to the devout soul, all created things 
seem ceaselessly to pour forth unto the Lord, — we have 
other longings which are only satisfied when we come 
together to lift up our voices one with another in prayer 
and praise. Though we can read our Bibles in solitari- 
ness and quietness ; though we can read the noble 
thoughts which reverent souls, divinely aided, have in- 
scribed on the pages of the books which have become our 
constant companions, our unfailing solace, — we never- 
theless desire to hear the divine message as it quivers on 
human lips ; we long to . hear the thoughts of another 
uttered with the varying tones of the human voice, and 
to note the very look and gesture which in some strange 
way accord with the inner meaning of the spoken words. 
Of all this need of human sympathy, our dear Lord is 
conscious. He is conscious of it, because he has felt it 
himself. During his life on earth, the sympathy he finds 
is precious to him. His home at Nazareth, in which he 
finds the sympathy of a human mother, is a home he 



SYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE, 245 

thinks of tenderly. The home at Bethany, of the two 
sisters and brother whom he loves so much, and whose 
love for him is great, is a retreat in which he finds sym- 
pathy which is dear to him. He rejoices that amongst 
his disciples there is one whom he can more especially 
love. And when, on the night of sorrows, he is contem- 
plating the hour fast approaching, when his disciples shall 
leave him alone, he shrinks from the loneliness to which 
their desertion will leave him. 

And as, when himself on earth, he sets all this value 
upon human sympathy, and feels all the need for it, so 
now is he conscious of all the yearnings of his brothers 
and sisters on earth for the loving sympathy of others. 
He is touched with a feeling of our infirmities. He 
knows how much longing for sympathy there is in the 
world, which is never satisfied. He knows that the great 
want of many a heart is the sympathy of a loving friend ; 
that the great sorrow which casts a shadow upon many a 
life is that the weary days come and go, bringing no 
sound of a friendly human voice, no whispered consola- 
tion, no communion in high thoughts, no loving saluta- 
tion to make the heart inwardly leap for joy. He knows 
of all the aching void of sad and lonely souls, because 
he himself was often sad and lonely, because he himself 
yearned for what we yearn for, and loved the tenderness 
of human life, — the greetings and the converse with 
which our sympathy is manifested. 

But in the very moment in which he expresses his 
need of human sympathy, he also makes known his assur- 
ance of the Divine sympathy of his Father : " And yet 



246 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

I am not alone, because the Father is with me." And 
this Divine sympathy is man's only refuge when human 
sympathy fails. The consciousness of possessing it is a 
proof that we have been brought into union with God. 
An abiding consciousness of its possession is a proof that 
we ever strive to remain in that union, to grow in that 
union, to submit ourselves to the Lord's guidance as he 
•draws us into a closer union. To retain a lasting con- 
sciousness, not only of having entered into union with 
*the Lord, but also of abiding in that union, is the great 
work of our Christian lives. It will not do to be content 
with the thought that on such a day we entered into a 
•sweet consciousness that God had drawn near to us ; we 
•must : >be conscious of a daily growth in God's favor, a 
daily growth in knowledge of the Lord, a daily inflowing 
of loving inspirations from his Divine heart. 

Knowing, as we do, that our Lord was perfectly human ; 
knowing ^that in him the Divine entered into complete 
union with the human, and so foreshadowed for us the 
■union into which we must enter, — knowing this, the 
human experience of our Lord revealed in my text 
shows us that we, like him, shall ever feel the need of 
human sympathy ; but that, even when that need is 
greatest, we may feel also assured of Divine sympathy. 
They show us, too, when taken along with the main 
teaching of our lord's life, that even the assurance of 
Divine sympathy does not carry us out of the range of 
: human sympathy, -does -not exalt us into a region where 
we fed no >need ;for the sympathy of our fellows, does 
not destroy the yearning within .us for communion with 



SYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 247 

one another. Jesus our Lord, who came to reveal to us 
how much there is of the human in the Divine, and how 
much there is of the Divine in regenerated humanity, 
and to commence the great union of humanity with 
Divinity, which, since his ascension to glory, his own 
Divine Spirit has been carrying on on earth, — he by his 
earthly life teaches us that there can be no goodness in 
the heart of man which is not a Divine endowment ; that 
the manifestation of charity within the soul which we call 
sympathy is altogether of a heavenly nature ; that the 
human sympathy for which we are ever craving, the 
Divine sympathy which we ought ever to strive to be 
assured of, are but different links of the same golden 
chain of love which unites heaven with earth, which 
brings the human into communion with the Divine. 
Even if we have an assurance of Divine sympathy, such as 
Jesus felt when he said, " And yet I am not alone, because 
the Father is with me," our yearning for human sympathy 
will not be quenched. But there will be awakened with- 
in us, if we have this blessed assurance of Divine sym- 
pathy, — there will be awakened within us, by the side of 
our own longings for the sympathy of others, a desire to 
bestow sympathy where sympathy is needed ; a desire 
to show forth our love to our brothers and sisters whom 
we see, to those whom we must love if we indeed love 
the Lord whom with the bodily eye we do not see. And 
if in sadness of soul we are yearning — and, as we think, 
hopelessly — for the sympathy of others, let us seek that 
Divine sympathy, the assurance of which brings consola- 
tion to the human heart of our Lord. Let us seek Divine 



248 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

sympathy, not with the thought of being made inde- 
pendent of human sympathy, but so that we ourselves 
may have alike our own longings for sympathy deepened 
and intensified, and our own power of bestowing sym- 
pathy made greater, and may become fellow-toilers with 
our Lord in the work of binding up the broken hearts of 
his earthly brethren, in bringing to sad and weary souls, 
to souls laden with remembrance of sin, the message of 
Divine forgiveness. 

And as this morning we, in our solemn eucharistic ser- 
vice, lift up our hearts unto the Lord ; as we join our 
upraised voices with those of angels and archangels, and 
with all the company of heaven, in lauding and magnify- 
ing the Lord's glorious name, — let us indeed feel assured 
that the thoughts of our hearts are in sympathy with the 
thoughts that animate the hearts of the redeemed in the 
Church above ; let us strive inwardly to gain an assur- 
ance of the sympathy of the Divine One \ let us realize 
that Christ has drawn near to us to speak to our hearts 
words of love ; let us depart hence with thankful hearts, 
with hearts resolved to be messengers of Divine love and 
sympathy to all around us, so that no one in the circle 
in which we move shall feel alone in a sad and weary 
world, and that ourselves with all our friends may grow 
together into the higher Christian life of love, may in- 
crease ever in Divine charity, and enter more consciously, 
every day of our lives, into union with the Lord. 



FENELON'S PRAYER. 249 

XLII. 

(Euestiag before Easier, 
FENELON'S PRAYER. 

REV. F. C. EWER, S. T. D. 

" O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I cannot give it ; and when thou 
hast it, oh ! keep it, for I cannot keep it for thee : and save me, in spite of 
myself, for Jesus Christ's sake. Ame?i. v 

Some time since, in preparing for the holy communion, 
my eye fell upon this little prayer of the good Bishop 
F^nelon. It is a prayer for every one of us. Good for 
the priest, good for the people ; and, as this prayer has 
been a comfort to me, I bring it this morning, and give 
it to you. It expresses what we all feel, and just what 
the Christian wants to say. Our hearts are all alike, and 
as in better moments we realize how we would like to 
offer ourselves truly to God and be his, yet for all our 
words we know not exactly how to do it, or whether we 
have done it, after all, so that we are sure he has accepted, 
realizing that we would, but cannot truly, give him our 
hearts. And then, as after we have made the offer in 
our poor way, and think we can keep the vow, we find 
ourselves, nevertheless, falling again before our besetting 
sin ; as we feel our impotency, and that we cannot our- 
selves keep the heart for God which we thought we had 
given to him ; and then, as when we have tried our- 



250 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

selves with that rigid self-examination by the rule of 
God's commandments, which the Church requires of 
every one of her children before he approaches the holy 
altar, we find, that, in some way or other, we are violat- 
ing all those commandments, and are thus brought to the 
realization of what weak sinners we are, how we are con- 
stantly losing all claim to salvation through our erring 
course, and how, nevertheless, we would not that this 
should all be so after all our prayers, — there is a some- 
thing left in the breast, a dumb longing that can find 
no utterance, a somewhat we would say, and yet we 
know not what. The prayers which we are using in our 
private worship all suppose a thoroughness in our devo- 
tion to God, a completeness in our vows and purposes, 
which the past tells us and which we feel is not within 
us ; which we would have, but cannot attain to. There 
is a lingering want within us, a something that we would 
say but for the want of language. Oh, how does the little 
prayer of the good Catholic bishop give voice to the dumb 
feeling within us ! " O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I 
cannot give it ; and when thou hast it, oh ! keep it, for 
I cannot keep it for thee : and save me in spite of myself, 
for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." O Christian ! do you 
feel your weakness, and yet your dependence upon God ; 
your willingness to cast yourself upon him, and be 
moulded by him as he would and not as you would, and 
an earnest desire for salvation? Here is your prayer; 
and like the prayer of the publican that stood afar off, 
and cried only, "God be merciful to me a sinner," it too 
will be accepted by Heaven as it goes warm from your 



FENELON'S PRAYER. 251 

breast. " O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I cannot give 
it ; and when thou hast it, oh ! keep it, for I cannot keep 
it for thee : and save me in spite of myself, for Jesus 
Christ's sake. Amen." 

Beloved, in the sacrament -of the blessed eucharist, 
one re-dedicates himself to God. The primary meaning 
of the word "sacrament " is oath. It is an act, then, 
of solemn vowing. The adult vows himself to God in 
holy baptism. But after that act we are continually 
erring. Feeble as we are, we are in need, therefore, of 
other opportunities, when we may rouse ourselves, and 
wherein we may strive to give our hearts again and again, 
through life, more truly to God. To this end he has 
kindly arranged an opportunity at the blessed sacrifice 
of the altar. Coming hither, we offer our hearts, which 
may have wandered : we swear anew our allegiance to 
God. Nor are we the only agents acting here. There 
are two actors here, — God, whom we may have forgot- 
ten, God whom we have grieved, stands here also to 
accept the offer, mercifully to forgive the past, and take 
the poor hearts we bring to him. In the giving by God 
of the body and blood, in the receiving and consuming 
by us in faith, the past is forgotten on his part ; the oath, 
the vow, on our part is reiterated ; the covenant of life 
between you and him is sealed anew. As you kneel 
here, remember, dearly beloved, it is the solemn hour of 
re -dedication of the heart to God by holy sacrament and 
by holy oath. Who is there that is equal to the act ? Who 
is there that does not remember how oft he hath given 
that heart back again to the world? Who is there that 



252 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

has not again and again broken the vows of his solemn 
eucharist? Who is there, then, that is worthy so much 
as to gather up the crumbs of this sacred table ? Who is 
there, that, as he remembers the past, is sure of his heart 
for the future as he brings it to God? As faltering we 
draw near, bringing with us those poor uncertain hearts of 
ours to offer them, let us always remember that God is 
long-suffering, God is love ; and let us come, not too con- 
fidently, but with the prayer of the good bishop on our 
lips, — " O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I cannot give 
it • mercifully make up what I lack." 

But the holy eucharist is not merely a sacrament of 
re-dedication on our part, and acceptance on the part 
of God. It is also, on our part, an oath of new resolution 
through which God gives us strength to enable us to keep 
our resolutions. And yet how apt we are to waste that 
supply of strength ! how apt are we to forget that there 
is that within us received here, the holy Christ made 
one with us, — Christ who is our strength, which, if we 
will only use it, will enable us to overcome temptation ! 
" I can do all things through Christ which strengthened 
me." How apt are we to forget that if we go forth with 
that within us, with Christ, our great Friend, who has con- 
quered Satan for us, and resist the Devil, God has prom- 
ised that the Devil will flee from us ! If, without the 
assistance of this Christ, we personally and alone attempt 
to resist the Devil (he is an archangel, fallen though 
he is), he is the stronger nature, and we shall be sure to 
fall. But Christ has conquered him for us. Christ gives 
himself spiritually to us here to stand by us, nay, within 



FENELON'S PRAYER. 253 

us ; in the warfare to become, as it were, the soul of our 
souls ; and if our faith doth not recognize him as within 
us, he passes as naught to us. And yet, brethren, how 
wasteful are we, I say, during each month, of the riches 
of the eucharist ! As we remember our broken resolu- 
tions then, and how easily we slip into sin notwithstand- 
ing all, and how hard it is for us, as we mingle in the 
world, prone as we are to forget and neglect God's assist- 
ance, to keep the heart for God which we have vowed to 
him, let us, whenever we approach hither, draw near with 
the prayer of the good bishop on our lips, — " O Lord ! 
take thou my heart, for I cannot give it ; and when thou 
hast it, oh ! keep it, for I cannot keep it for thee." But 
the blessed eucharist is not only a holy oath of re-dedi- 
cation on our part, and re-acceptance on God's part ; and 
it is not only the binding on our part of fresh resolu- 
tions, and on God's the imparting of strength toward the 
keeping of our resolutions : but it is that sacrament where- 
by we receive all other benefits of Christ's passion. For 
Christ's work is twofold, — general and particular, — what 
he did for all, and what he does for each. On the cross 
he died for all generally; in this blessed eucharist he 
applies himself and the merits of his cross to the private 
soul of one by one, while on the cross his is the general 
title and office of the Saviour of the world. But at the 
holy table he draws near, and is personally the Saviour of 
each, applying his broken body to each one. It is to the 
blessed eucharist that we, as separate Christians, come, 
as a means through which we may gain streams of salva- 
tion from the cross. It is in the blessed eucharist that 



254 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

God looks upon the cross we there plead before him, and 
saves us through Christ. And as we approach this holy 
sacrament, feeling that we would offer our hearts better 
than we can, and conscious of our weakness, conscious 
of our unsteadiness of purpose when we have offered; 
conscious that though in better moments we would be 
obedient, yet in weaker moments we are too often, alas ! 
willingly disobedient ; that we would keep our hearts true, 
but cannot ; and that, if we are to be saved, God must do 
the most of it himself, — let us come with the full prayer 
on our lips. Let it be always with us in our pews before 
we arise to approach. Let us breathe it as we draw near 
and fall on our knees, — "O Lord! now take thou my 
soul, for I cannot give it ; and when thou hast it, oh ! 
keep it, for I cannot keep it for thee : and save me in 
spite of myself, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." 



XLIII. 

TOetmegtiarj before lEaster. 
GODS LOVE TO MAN. 

REV. F. W. FABER, D.D. 

We have known and believed the love that God hath to us. — i John 
iv. 1 6. 

Reason and revelation, science and theology, nature, 
grace, and glory, alike establish the infallible truth, that 



GOD'S LOVE TO MA IV. 255 

God loves his own creatures, and loves them only as God 
can love. The question is, why he loves us ; and our 
first step towards an answer must be to examine the char- 
acter and degree of this love. Let us see what God's 
love of us is like. 

In the first place, it passes all example. We have 
nothing to measure it by, nothing to compare it with. 
It is without parallel, without similitude. It is based 
upon his own eternal goodness, which we do not under- 
stand. This leads us to its next feature, that it does not 
resemble human love, either in kind or in degree. It 
does not answer to the description of a creature's love. 
It manifests itself in different ways. It cannot be judged 
by the same principles. We cannot rise to the idea of it 
by successive steps of greater or less human love. The 
ties of paternal, fraternal, conjugal affection all express 
truths about the Divine love ; but they not only express 
them in a very imperfect way, they also fall infinitely 
short of the real truth, of the whole truth. This is our 
third feature of it, that not even a glorified soul can ever 
understand it. If even they who see God cannot com- 
prehend his love, what manner of love must it necessarily 
be? And yet it is ours, our own possession; and God's 
one desire is, by hourly influxes of grace, to increase that 
which is already incalculable, to enrich us with an appar- 
ently unspeakable abundance of that whose least degree 
is beyond the science of archangels. It is another fea- 
ture of this love, that it seems so to possess God as to 
make him insensible to reduplicated wrongs, and to set 
one attribute against another. There is nothing like 



256 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

God's love, except God's unity. It is the whole of God. 
Mercy must be risked by the permission of evil. That 
choice perfection of the Most High, his intolerably shin- 
ing sanctity, must be exposed to inevitable outrage by 
the freedom of created wills. Only love must be satis- 
fied. The most stupendous schemes of redemption shall 
seem to tax the infinity of wisdom so as to satisfy justice, 
provided only that the satisfaction be not made at the 
expense of love. Love appears — oh these poor human 
words ! — to stand out from the equality of the Divine 
perfections. Yet even love, for love's own sake, will 
come down from the eminence of its dignity. It will take 
man's love as a return for itself. It will count that for a 
return, which bears no resemblance to the thing returned, 
either in kind or in degree. The mutual love of God 
and man is truly a friendship, of which the reciprocity is 
all on one side. Compared to the least fraction of God's 
enormous love of us, what is all the collective love he 
receives from angels, and from men, but as less than the 
least drop in the boundless sea ! Hence we may well 
reckon as a fifth feature of this love, that its grandeur is 
a trial even to the faith which finds no difficulty in the 
mystery of the undivided Trinity. If we have had to 
work for God, have we not found more men puzzled and 
tempted by the love of God, than by any other article of 
the faith? Indeed, mosf of the temptations against the 
faith, when properly analyzed, resolve themselves into 
temptations arising from the seeming excesses of Divine 
love. It is the excessive love of the incarnation and the 
passion, which makes men find it hard to believe those 



GOD'S LOVE TO MAN. 257 

mysteries. We confess it seems to us that he who, on 
reflection, can receive and embrace those two proposi- 
tions, that God loves us, and that God desires our love, 
can find nothing difficult hereafter in the wonders of 
theology. Another feature of this love is, that it is eter- 
nal, which is in itself an inexplicable mystery. As there 
never was a moment when God was not, in all the plen- 
itude of his self-sufficient majesty, so there never was a 
moment when he did not love us. He loved us not only 
in the gross as his creatures, not only as atoms in a mass, 
as units in a multitude, all grouped together and not 
taken singly ; but he loved us individually. He loved us 
with all those distinctions and individualities which make 
us ourselves, and prevent our being any but ourselves. 
Once more : the seventh feature of this love which God 
bears us is that it is in every way worthy of himself, and 
the result of his combined perfections. It would be, of 
course, an intolerable impiety to suppose the contrary. 
If it be a finite love, where is its limit ? If it went to 
the crucifixion, who can say where it will not go, if need 
should be? If it be a love short of immense, who has 
ever exhausted it? Look at it in heaven at this moment ; 
it is rolling like countless silver oceans into countless 
spirits and unnumbered souls. Ages will pass uncounted, 
and still the fresh tides will roll. If his love be mutable, 
when did it change ? Is a whole past eternity no warrant 
for its perseverance ? Is not fidelity its badge and token, 
a fidelity which is like no created thing although we call 
it by a human name ? Is it not also a benignant love, 
a merciful love, a just love? Is it not a love which 



258 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

directs the whole providence of God, and makes his 
absolute dominion over us our most perfect freedom? 
And, finally, is it not its very characteristic, that it should 
be itself our end, our reward, our consummate joy in 
God? Thus it is the result of his combined perfections, 
a sort of beautiful external parable of his incommunica- 
ble unity. 



XLIV. 

SCjjurstoag before lEagter, 
THE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. — Matt. xxvi. 38. 

What in human literature, ancient or modern — what 
in Holy Scripture, Old Testament or New — strikes the 
mind with such tender astonishment as the familiar record 
of the Redeemer's agony on the last night before his 
crucifixion? To see stalwart manhood struggling with 
disease and distracted with pain — to see fragile beauty 
languishing in consumption and slowly fading from the 
world — to see innocent childhood writhing in convul- 
sions and stretching out its little hands for aid in the chill 
waters of death — either of these were a sight sufficiently 
touching for a tender and sympathetic nature. But to 
see the immaculate Son of God, the almighty Maker and 
Sustainer of the universe, in his tabernacle of human flesh, 



THE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. 259 

wrestling with an unknown mental anguish, mysteriously 
deprecating the crisis of his woe, bathed with a bloody 
perspiration, and sustained by angelic succor — here is 
a spectacle which alike moves our compassion and con- 
founds our reason. To such a view we are now invited ; 
but let us draw near with reverence, for the ground we 
tread is holy. 

Some thirty-five years ago, a book was written to prove 
that Christ's sufferings were the sufferings no less of his 
divinity than of his humanity. The argument was an 
elaborate failure. The doctrine that the divine nature 
of Jesus suffered is not warranted by any declaration of 
Holy Scripture, nor can it be deduced thence by any 
fair process of reasoning. The suffering of the Logos 
was both unnecessary and impossible : — unnecessary, 
because, the two natures constituting but one person, the 
suffering of the inferior would answer all the purposes to 
be secured by the suffering of the superior ; impossible, 
because one of the essential attributes of a perfect and 
infinite spirit must be perfect blessedness, which is in- 
compatible even with the possibility of suffering. The 
suffering of our blessed Lord, therefore, was the suffering 
of his humanity only ; and it was of his human spirit he 
said — " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." 
What was the cause, and what the nature, of that sorrow? 

Was it the feeling of remorse ? This none can experi- 
ence but the guilty. Christ did no iniquity, and challenged 
all his enemies to convict him of sin. There was not a 



260 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

stain upon his conscience, nor a moral shadow upon his 
life. Had he been a sinner, how could he have been a 
Saviour to other sinners ? To say that he suffered remorse 
for the sins of men in his representative character as their 
legal substitute, is too absurd to require refutation. 

Was it the" fear of his enemies? All power was his in 
heaven and earth. Why should he fear the worms he 
made ? Let them surround him by thousands ; he can 
pass through their midst and go his way, or call down 
fire from heaven to consume them, or bring a legion of 
angels to scatter them, or make the earth open her mouth 
and swallow them up, or paralyze the tongue that speaks 
against him, or the hand put forth to seize him. He has 
seen times of apparently greater danger than this ; but 
who ever knew him to quail before the malice of persecu- 
tion or the menace of power? 

Was it the dread of a cruel death? To die, he came 
into the world. To be capable of dying, he assumed our 
mortal nature. From the first he knew the necessity of 
his death, and distinctly foresaw its mode, with all its 
circumstances of torture and of shame. Yet he consented 
to it ; he rejoiced in the prospect. From the throne of 
the universe, he beheld a cross planted on Calvary ; and 
to embrace that cross, he abdicated that throne. His 
views and feelings are still unchanged, and Golgotha 
acquires no terror from, its contiguity. Why should He 
fear death, who is himself the resurrection and the life ? 
Why should He fear death, who by dying is to destroy 



THE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. 261 

him that hath the power of death, and make earth's 
cemeteries the seed-fields of immortality? 

Was it the displeasure of his eternal Father? The 
thought is blasphemy. Never was the eternal Father 
displeased with his incarnate Son. Both at his baptism 
and at his transfiguration, the Father testified of him by 
a voice from heaven — " This is my beloved Son, in whom 
I am ever well pleased." God can be displeased with 
none but sinners, but his Son has never sinned. To say 
that he was displeased with his Son as the substitute for 
sinners, is to contradict all that the Scriptures say of his 
infinite love in sending his Son to be the Saviour of the 
world. Oh ! no ; God the Father was never better pleased 
with his beloved Son, than when that Son came with 
delight to do his Father's will. Never was he belter 
pleased with him, than when he saw him writhing in the 
agony of the olive-garden, and sent an angel for his 
succor. 

Was it the penalty of God's violated law? Such is the 
teaching of a certain school in theology. They say that 
Christ suffered, in kind and in amount, just what the sin- 
ner deserved to suffer, and must have suffered if he had 
not been redeemed, — all that the whole multitude of his 
redeemed would have suffered, had they been lost for- 
ever. They tell us that the sins of his people are all 
imputed to him, and he is treated as if he had himself 
committed them all ; that the Almighty Justice gathers all 
the curses of the broken law into one huge avenging bolt, 



262 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

and hurls it flaming down upon the soul of his people's 
Surety. One writer of this class that I have read main- 
tains that Jesus endured in Gethsemane and on Golgotha 
the actual pains of hell, suffering in a few hours more 
than all the myriads of fallen angels and reprobate human 
spirits could possibly suffer to all eternity. The state- 
ment of such a theory is its refutation. We know not, 
indeed, what exquisite refinement of anguish the Re- 
deemer endured in the garden and on the cross ; yet this 
we know — there was no necessity that his suffering should 
be infinite, nor equal in amount to the eternal suffering 
of all the lost, since it is not the measure of the suffering, 
but the majesty of the Sufferer, and his voluntary surren- 
der as our sacrifice, that renders the dread endurance 
sufficiently meritorious for the salvation of all mankind. 

Some think his grief was that only of ar pure and 
benevolent heart for the sins and sufferings of the race. 
That this was an ingredient in his bitter cup, there can 
be no question ; but this was not all the bitter potion. 
Already, from the brow of Olivet, had he wept over Jeru- 
salem, with tenderest lamentation anticipating her cruel 
fate ; and now, when she has finally rejected her gracious 
visitation, and is ready to consummate her crimes by the 
crucifixion of the manifest Messiah, his heart melts with 
unutterable anguish, as he thinks of the blind unbelief and 
enormous guilt of her reprobate population, and the wrath 
unto the uttermost soon to fall upon them, scattering them 
in hopeless exile among the nations, while they continue 
to discard his redemption, and obstinately adhere to an 



THE MYSTERIOUS AGONY, 263 

abrogated and soulless ceremonial, through all the ages 
of their retributive captivity. And to this vvoful picture 
must be added the vision of Gentile wickedness, the de- 
lusions of idolatry, the sacrilege of superstition, the blas- 
phemy of unbelief, the wanton revelry of vice, the suffering 
of persecuted virtue, the general forgetfulness of God, the 
bitter scorn of the blood-sealed testament, the horror and 
hopelessness of guilty death-beds, the terrible judgments 
poured out upon successive generations of the profligate, 
the whole dark panorama of human misery down to the 
end of the world, and the weeping and wailing that ascend 
evermore from the place of final punishment. All this, 
with much more that we cannot imagine, may have passed 
before the omniscient spirit of our Saviour in Gethsemane, 
constituting one cause of his inconceivable sorrow. But 
in his agony there was a still deeper and more mysterious 
significance. A heavier burden pressed him to the earth, 
and forced the red life through every pore, till " his sweat 
was as great drops of blood falling down to the ground." 

Others attribute our Lord's great sorrow to the Prince 
of darkness, whose hour was now come, and all whose 
powers here rallied to the final assault upon the Captain 
of our salvation. They suppose that in some terrific 
shape Satan met him in the garden, that through this 
apparition he "began to be sore amazed and very heavy," 
and that to strengthen him in some way which we cannot 
understand for this conflict with " the angel of the bot- 
tomless pit" came the "angel from heaven." Without 
imagining that he had any doubt of the issue, or any fear 



264 CHUCRH READER FOR LENT. 

of the enemy he had already vanquished, we may ration- 
ally suppose that a real encounter with the fallen arch- 
angel, though perhaps altogether of a mental character, 
was another cause of the suffering here recorded. To 
destroy the works of the Devil came the Son of God into 
the world. Ever since his personal appearance in our 
planet, this one aim has occupied his thought and gov- 
erned all his actions. Now the decisive struggle is at 
hand. To-morrow, on Mount Calvary, the victory shall 
be consummated. To-morrow, on Mount Calvary, he 
shall bruise the old serpent's head beyond all power of 
healing. With blood-dyed garments, travelling in the 
greatness of his strength, he shall trample the hosts of 
hell in his anger, and make them drunk in his fury. 
Mighty to save, he shall spoil principalities and powers, 
making a show of them openly, triumphing over them by 
his cross, and leading captive the captivity of his people. 
The day of vengeance is in his heart, and the year of 
his redeemed is come. Satan knows his antagonist, and 
trembles for his throne. Gathering all his forces to the 
olive-garden, he plies the Son of God with his heaviest 
artillery. True, he " hath nothing" in Christ, — no fallen 
nature upon which he can work, no sinful passion to 
which he can appeal, no principle of evil ready to act as 
his ally, no possible means of diverting him from his 
purpose or defeating his redemption of our race ; yet can 
he inflict upon that sinless human soul an inconceivable 
amount of suffering ; and feeling the utter hopelessness 
of his own cause, and foreseeing the speedy subversion of 
his own empire, he arrays his host for battle, and assails 



THE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. 265 

his Conqueror with all the virulence of infernal hate, with 
all the fury of a desperate revenge, till the appeal to the 
Father and the perspiration of blood bring down the 
angel, not to release from the conflict, but to strengthen 
for the victory. 

But was this last struggle with the Wicked One the 
chief cause of our Saviour's sorrow? I think not, and in 
all that I have said another has been anticipated. There 
is not time to dwell upon it at any length, though by far 
the most important point of all. In the vicarious and 
sacrificial character of Christ's sufferings, must be found 
the key to this great mystery. The Scripture proof is 
clear and ample, that he suffered in our stead, as our sub- 
stitute, to atone for our sins and procure our salvation^ 
His sufferings began with his human life, and all that he 
suffered was for human guilt. Almost every variety of 
affliction to which humanity is liable, except remorse of 
conscience and the wrath of God, seems to have been 
wrung into his single cup. But now he suffers as he 
never suffered before. In the whole history of the Man 
of sorrows, from its beginning in Bethlehem, to- its conclu- 
sion on Calvary, there is not another scene like this. 
Now, in his unknown sorrows and sufferings, by him felt, 
but to us incomprehensible, he pays down the first instal- 
ment of our pledged redemption. Why that sore amaze- 
ment ? is it not the anticipated " chastisement of our 
peace " ? Why that mental heaviness ? is it not the laying- 
on of "the iniquity of us all"? Why that exceeding 
sorrow? is it not the Almighty Justice putting him to 



266 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

grief? Why that bloody perspiration? is it not the eter- 
nal Father bruising him in the wine-press? Why that 
incomprehensible agony? is it not the travail of his soul 
for the ransom of ours ? Why that thrice-uttered prayer 
that the cup might pass from him? is it not the mingled 
cup of all our woes put into his hand that he may drain 
it to the dregs? Why comes an angel from heaven to 
succor him in the dread crisis of his enterprise ? is not 
this our true Atlas, bearing the world upon his shoulders, 
and lifting it out of darkness into the everlasting light ? 
Jesus is suffering, the just for the unjust, to bring us to 
God ; and his sufferings are sufficient to satisfy the de- 
mands of justice and procure the pardon of the guilty. 
The claims of the broken law are as strongly asserted, 
and the principles of the Divine administration are az 
thoroughly vindicated, in the sufferings of the legal sub- 
stitute, as they could have been in the sufferings of the 
sinner himself; and thus God can be just while he justi- 
fies the believer in Jesus, fully sustaining the law while he 
exercises mercy to the transgressor. The Father's inflic- 
tion of anguish inconceivable upon his own beloved Son 
is a more appalling exhibition of his hatred to sin and his 
purpose to punish the sinner — a more emphatic affirma- 
tion of his regard for his own righteous government, and 
his jealousy for the purity and happiness of the moral 
universe — a more powerful appeal to the conscience of 
mankind, a more effectual preventive of evil-doing, and 
a more glorious guard to virtue — than could have been 
furnished in the utter reprobation and ruin of the whole 
apostate race. Had all the teeming millions of earth's 



THE GREA T SA CRIFICE. 267 

guilty population, from Adam to his latest son, been cast 
alive into the lake of fire, their hopeless anguish would 
have been a far less impressive display of the Divine 
holiness than the agony and bloody sweat of Jehovah's 
Fellow in Gethsemane ; and their weeping and wailing 
through all the ages of reverseless doom would have been 
a far less terrific demonstration of the Divine justice than 
the supplication of the well-beloved Sufferer, — u Father, 
if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ' " Doubtless 
Jesus endured as keen if not as complicate an anguish 
while he lay struggling upon the turf, as when he hung 
writhing upon the tree ; and if the mighty atonement 
which reconciles heaven and earth was completed on 
Calvary, it was at least begun in Gethsemane. 



XLV. 

©art jFtftag ffforntncj. 
THE GREAT SACRIFICE. 

REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. 

He was wounded for our transgressions ; he was bruised for our iniqui- 
ties ; the chastisement of our peace was upon him ; and with his stripes we 
are healed. — Isa. liii. 5. 

With the whole Church, we gather to-day around the 
cross. With the whole multitude of the redeemed, we 
come to gaze upon a sight, such as our world has wit- 



268 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

nessed but once, and can never witness again. Seven 
hundred years before the event, the prophet delineates 
the scene, as if it were actually present to his view ; 
with a few inimitable touches depicting the humiliation 
and anguish of the Divine Sufferer, and investing the 
symbol of unutterable shame with a glory too bright for 
our unshaded eyes. This chapter is the most precious 
Calvary token of the Old Testament, and our text em- 
bodies the whole mystery of human redemption : " He 
was wounded for our transgressions ; he was bruised for 
our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was upon 
him; and with his stripes we are healed." 

There is a certain vague, confused, and palpably incon- 
sistent theory of religion, which teaches that God forgives 
the sinner for his contrition, for his reformation, for his 
punitive sufferings, for his meritorious sacrifices, or for his 
well-doing at one time to make amends for his ill-doing 
at another. Nothing could be more violently contra- 
dictory of Holy Scripture. Creature merit is an absurdity. 
How can he who owes all he has and all he is to God 
render to him any thing beyond his sovereign claim 
as Creator? How, then, can the merit of a sinful crea- 
ture, who has hitherto withholden from God his own, 
every thing he claims of love and obedience, be con- 
ceived of as within the limits of possibility? What 
virtue can there be in penitential tears to wash away the 
crimes of the past? what power in the correction of evil 
habits to undo the mischief already done ? what efficacy 
in the penalty of violated law* to repair the wrong for 



THE GREA T SA CRIEICE. 269 

which it is inflicted? what moral value in self-denial or 
suffering to set over against the guilt of former self- 
indulgence ? or what magical influence in a present service, 
always due, to satisfy the rigid demands of Heaven for 
the constant delinquency of many years? Nay, "with- 
out the shedding of blood is no remission of sins ; " and 
it must be the blood of an immaculate victim, such as 
cannot be found among the sons of men ; yet must that 
victim possess our nature, in order to be our proper repre- 
sentative, and suffer in our stead ; but he must also be 
divine, since naught less than divinity can, by voluntary 
suffering, merit Divine mercy for the guilty, and reconcile 
Eternal Justice to the fallen and rebellious. None but 
" God manifest in the flesh " can meet these demands ; 
and " God manifest in the flesh " has actually met them, 
and " become the Author of eternal salvation to all them 
that obey him." And no man depending upon any other 
merit or mediation for pardon, holiness, and eternal life, 
has accepted God's method for the recovery of the lost ; 
for the Bible, the whole Bible, from the tragical story of 
Abel in Genesis to the thunder-chant of the innumerable 
ransomed in the Revelation, everywhere insists upon the 
salvation of sinners through this Divine Sacrifice offered 
once for all ; and we must renounce the word of God, or 
cling to the cross of Christ. 

And within the limits of humanity, this one sacrifice 
is universally available. The Son of God, in the likeness 
of sinful flesh suffering for human sin, represents every 
single individual sinner, as truly as if there were not 
another in the universe. He "gave himself a ransom for 



270 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

all," a "propitiation for the sins of the whole world." 
All the ends of the earth he invites to look unto him and 
be saved. All who labor and are heavy laden he calls to 
come unto him for rest. And all who come are assured 
of his ability to save them unto the uttermost ; and none 
who come shall be cast out, or turned unheeded away. 
And to you, my brethren ! to every one of you, O my 
sinful brethren ! is the word of this salvation sent; and 
every man who hears the message is as much personally 
interested in the announcement as if, of all the world, it 
were -sent to him alone ; yea, as much as if his name had 
been placarded by angel hands with Pilate's inscription 
upon the cross, as the one only sinner that Jesus died 
to save. Accept, then, this precious sacrifice ; believe in 
Christ as your own sufficient Saviour ; and in proof of 
your faith, yield yourself soul and body to him in humble 
and hearty obedience. Come and consecrate yourself to 
his service in an everlasting covenant. Come and receive 
the promised seal of the heavenly Paraclete in the laying- 
on of hands. Come and eat the flesh and drink the 
blood given for the life of the world. Come without any 
preparation, but that of a broken heart and a contrite 
spirit. 

" Let not conscience make you linger, 

Nor of fitness fondly dream ; 
All the fitness he requireth, 

Is to feel your need of him." 

Fifty pence or five hundred, your debt shall be freely and 
fully forgiven. Your eternal Surety cannot fail, though 
the earth dissolve and the heavens pass away. All equally 



THE GREA T SA CRIFICE. 2 7 1 

need his redemption, and all may equally enjoy the un- 
speakable 'mercy. Not in your own merit, but in the 
merit of the Crucified, you stand accepted before God, 
and enter into the fellowship of eternal life. 

To-day the marshalled hosts of the faithful march to a 
melancholy strain, and all their banners are emblazoned 
with the bloody symbol of the cross. Who is heedless of 
the spectacle? Let him not talk of religion. Religion 
to him is but an empty name. The man who is indiffer- 
ent to the cross has no religion ; let him not deceive him- 
self by an unmeaning word. Religion is sympathy with 
Christ, an alliance with the living God through the sacri- 
fice of the cross. A Christianity without the cross is a 
planet without a sun. In the cross all truth concentres ; 
from the cross all charity radiates ; around the cross all 
virtue thrives, and blossoms beneath its crimson dew. 
Here the true-hearted find the source of life, the strength 
of action, the means of victory, and the pledge of eternal 
mercy. St. Paul calls it " the wisdom of God and the 
power of God ; " and with all philosophy at his feet, and 
all poetry on his tongue, and all miracles awaiting his 
word, and the unspeakable utterances of the third heaven 
still echoing in his soul, he determines to glory in nothing 
but the cross of Christ. To knew Christ and him cruci- 
fied, this is the transcendent science, and the burden of 
the immortal song. " He was wounded for our transgres- 
sions ; he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastise- 
ment of our peace was upon him ; and with his stripes 
we are healed." 



272 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 



XLVI. 

©oati Jrfoag lEbentng. 
THE CRUCIFIXION. 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 

They crucified him. — Luke xxiii. 33. 

We commemorate to-day the greatest tragedy in this 
world's history. 

" Holy Jesu, grant us tears, 
Fill us with heart-searching fears," 

as we gaze on the sad pictures of the first Good Friday. 
It is past midnight, and we can just see a band of men 
coming forth from a green, tree-shadowed garden. Here 
and there a ray of moonlight, striking through the trees, 
flashes on bright armor, and we see that some of the 
band are Roman soldiers. The torches which are car- 
ried by many show the faces of bearded men, clad in 
Eastern dress. These are Jews, and their eyes are fixed 
fiercely and hungrily upon one, who, with his hands tied 
behind his back, and with bowed head, is dragged for- 
ward across the brook Kedron, and up the hill towards 
Jerusalem and the high priest's palace. In the back- 
ground, among the shadows, I see some figures hovering ; 
and I can recognize the grizzled locks of Peter, and the 
fair young face of the beloved disciple. There is one 
also in the crowd who hangs back, as though seeking an 



THE CRUCIFIXION, 273 

opportunity to escape : he dare not meet the eye of the 
silent Prisoner, and his heart is torn with doubts, and 
hopes, and fears, as to the end of that terrible night's 
work, and the kiss of betrayal. We look anon, and see 
the sinless One in the presence of Annas the Sadducee, 
an old man, full of years, and of craft and cruelty. The 
city of Jerusalem is crowded in every part with visitors 
to the passover feast, but yet all is still. 

The weary night, the darkest in this world's history, 
drags on. Jesus has been led away from Annas, who has 
in vain tried to find guilt in the innocent One. He has 
been taken from one side of the palace to the other, 
where dwells Caiaphas, the son-in-law of Annas. There 
a few of the most fierce and bitter of his enemies are 
met together, and seek, by the aid of false witnesses, to 
impute wickedness to Him in whom was no sin. To the 
questions, half sneering, half fearful, of Caiaphas, Jesus 
answers not a word. " As a sheep dumb before her 
shearer," so the Lamb of God opens not his mouth. But 
at last he speaks. He has told them that he is the Son 
of God, and now the savage hatred and terror of the 
crowd break forth. The mob sways to and fro, and 
grows every moment more numerous and more danger- 
ous. Many a white-haired teacher, forgetting his sacred 
calling, is trying to inflame the passions of the people. 
There is one ominous murmur throughout the assembly : 
"He is guilty of death." 

The dawn is breaking, and the spring morning is cold 
and gray, as they hurry Jesus across the court of the high 
priest's house. Those sad eyes, so wan with looking on 



274 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the sins of men, gaze on the groups of servants who 
stand around the fire of coals. Whose is that loud and 
eager voice? who is that whose broad Galilean dialect 
betrays his origin, as he cries with an oath, " I know not 
the man "? The sad eyes look on the face lighted up by 
the blazing coals, and strike sorrow to the very heart of 
denying Peter. And so with his wounded heart bearing 
this fresh wound, the denial of his friend, Jesus goes to 
the soldiers' guard-room, to await the day, when he may 
be judged by the whole Jewish council. 

Oh, let us blindfold our eyes that we see not the insults 
of Him whom they have blindfolded ! The brutal sol- 
diery have their wicked will of him, till the sun shines 
out ; and in the sweet Eastern morning, Jesus with bound 
arms and marred face is dragged before the Jewish 
council met in full assembly. Not one friendly face 
looks forth from that line of grim judges. Nicodemus, 
and Joseph of Arimathea, are absent ; and scribe and 
elder, priest and Sadducee, are alike eager for the death 
of Jesus. And now the mock trial is over ; and since 
they have not the power to put him to death, the Jews 
determine to take their victim to the Roman power ; and 
so the procession starts, under the hot Eastern sun, for 
the gorgeous palace of Pilate the governor. The whole 
city of Jerusalem is astir. The streets are crowded with 
people, — villagers bringing their fruits and wares from 
Bethany and Bethphage ; fishermen from Gennesareth, 
who have come to keep the feast ; women and children 
guiding white-haired patriarchs ; and ever and anon stern 
Roman soldiers riding with their officer, and watching 
warily for some riot among the people. 



THE CRUCIFIXION. 275 

And now all eyes are turned for a moment on a strange 
procession. Yonder are the chief priests, with Caiaphas 
at their head, and others who are well known as the lead- 
ing men of the great council. Strangers ask who is the 
pale, worn man, bound as a condemned prisoner, whose 
plain and homely clothes are torn and disordered, whose 
face is bruised and bleeding, and round whom a frantic 
mob surges with angry cries. " He is the prophet of 
Galilee," say some, "a good man and a wise ;" "He is a 
deceiver, and stirrer-up of sedition," say others ; and as 
the crowd presses nearer, the Roman soldiers beat the 
people back with their spears. 

And so they come to the beautiful palace of Pontius 
Pilate, towering high up above the city, with its floors 
flashing with jewels, and its roofs glittering with gold, 
and its halls echoing with the plash of fountains and the 
cooing of doves. 

Pilate sees in the excited crowd only a new sign of 
riot and rebellion in the people whom he fears and de- 
spises. He stands before the Jewish rulers, cold and 
dignified, without sympathy for accusers or accused. He 
sees that the priests are eager for blood, and he sees too 
plainly that the prisoner is innocent. He takes Jesus 
within the splendid hall, where his accusers will not come 
on the eve of the passover. The Roman governor stands 
there in his purple and fine linen, powerful, gorgeous, 
troubled. The King of heaven and earth stands there 
also, poor, despised, insulted, yet calm in the majesty of 
innocence. The few words then spoken convince Pilate 
that Jesus is legally innocent, and he tells the Jews so 



276 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

plainly. In vain : the shouts grow more fierce, and are 
echoed by distant voices in the city. Presently Jesus is 
sent to Herod, Pilate hoping to get rid of the respon- 
sibility. Once more through its cruel streets, more 
crowded, more dangerous than ever, is the sinless One 
dragged to the palace of Herod Antipas, one of the 
worst of a bad line. 

We may not dwell on the scene of mockery when 
Herod's soldiers set him at naught. Again Jesus is be- 
fore Pilate, wearing a white robe, which Herod has caused 
to be put on him in mockery. Again the wavering 
Roman tries to deliver the innocent. But he fears an 
outbreak : the city is filled with Jews, far out-numbering 
his soldiers ; and already the cry is raised, " Thou art not 
Caesar's friend." He offers as a last choice to set the 
prisoner free, according to the passover privilege of the 
Jews. But now a mighty roar goes up from numberless 
voices, " Not this man, but Barabbas ! Crucify him, cru- 
cify him ! " And the terrible cry is taken up outside ; and 
far off among the crowded streets, are heard the words, 
" Crucify him, crucify him ! " 

And so the sentence is given, and Jesus is delivered to 
their will. Think of the savage fury of the mob as it 
sweeps upon him ! The soldiers rescue him, and proceed 
to scourge him, according to the horrible custom of the 
time. It was a punishment under which the victim often 
died, but for Jesus the end is not yet. The mockery of 
the soldiers follows the scourging. Herod's white robe, 
all stained with blood-drops now, is torn off, and a scarlet 
garment is thrown over the bound and wounded form. 



THE CRUCIFIXION. 277 

Jesus has called himself the King of the Jews, and he 
shall be crowned, say the soldiers. One twists some 
sharp thorny branches into a crown, and presses it on the 
aching brow. Another has formed a sceptre from a reed, 
and has forced it between the bound and helpless hands ; 
and the mocking words are uttered, " Hail, King of the 
Jews ! " If Pilate still hoped to save Jesus, the fury of the 
crowd soon banished the hope. He has yielded against 
his will, and knowledge of right ; he has washed his hands, 
as he thinks, of the blood of Jesus ; and soldiers have 
been sent to prepare a cross, — no difficult matter, as it 
was the usual instrument of execution among the Romans, 
— and the great procession of sacrifice sets forth for Cal- 
vary. The crowd sweeps out through the city gate to 
look on this great sight, — a motley crowd of secret friends 
and open enemies. 

We know not for certain who was there, but I think 
we can rightly name some of that great multitude. There 
were many who had seen the works of mercy which Jesus 
had done. Country-people from Nazareth would remem- 
ber the quiet home among the hills, and the blameless 
life of Him whom they called the "carpenter's son." 
Were there none there from Cana of Galilee, who re- 
membered how the water was made wine ? Were there 
none to tell of the daughter of Jairus, or the widow's son 
of Nain? I do not think that Lazarus and his sisters, 
from Bethany close at hand, would have been absent at 
such a time. 

We know that there were women who followed him in 
that dread procession ; and doubtless the tearful eyes of 



278 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

the Virgin Mother, she with the white hair and the falter- 
ing step, who leans upon the arm of St. John, saw how her 
Son fell fainting under the weight of the cross, and how 
Simon was forced to carry it. The spot is reached at last. 
The authorities are determined to make the scene a 
notable one, and two thieves are to die with the Lord of 
righteousness. The Roman soldiers clear a space round 
the three crosses ; the great crowd stands eagerly outside 
the glittering barrier of armed men. The horrible details 
of the torture are watched with brutal interest. It is done 
at last : " they crucified him." How different the feelings 
of the two classes of spectators ! To the one class, this 
scene was only one of interest and excitement, in which 
their love for the horrible was satisfied. To the trembling 
believers in Jesus, to those who had learned to love him, 
and yet were afraid now to avow their love, the scene 
must have been one of mingled astonishment, mystery, 
and grief. Could it be that He, the all-powerful, would 
really yield to his enemies? Could the conqueror of 
death, the deliverer of Lazurus, really die? And who 
shall tell the thoughts which passed through the mind 
of the mother of Jesus, and of Mary Magdalene, and of 
many another who loved him? If the eyes. of the Jewish 
rulers flashed with gratified rage, there must have been 
many eyes wet with tears. 

, See how the blood drops from that crushed right hand ! 
That hand lifted the little girl from her death-bed ; that 
hand stroked the sunny locks of little children in the old 
days of his loving ministry ; that hand supported thy sink- 
ing body, O weeping, penitent Peter ! 



THE CRUCIFIXION. 279 

See how the nails have torn those weary feet ! Re- 
member thy precious ointment, O mourning woman ! thy 
gift was not wasted indeed : it is written in heaven against 
thy name, " She hath done what she could." 

See how the precious blood of the paschal Lamb falls 
on the households of the world ! For thee, O Pilate, in 
thy pride, if thou wilt have it ; for thee, O Bartimaeus the 
beggar, once blind, in thy humility, — for all alike it falls. 
" They crucified him ; " and you crucify him, all ye who 
sin of malicious wickedness. 

"Is not his love, at issue still with sin, 

crucified 

Visibly when a wrong is done on earth ? " 

O proud man, remember your pride crucifies afresh the 
meek and lowly Jesus ! O angry and cruel man, your 
hands drag Jesus again to Calvary ! O impure man and 
woman, your lust is as the foul spitting on the face of 
Jesus ! O selfish ones, your selfishness is a new cross for 
Jesus ; new thorns, new nails, for Jesus ! And you, care- 
less daughters, frivolous, thoughtless, indifferent, you who 
wear a jewelled cross as a toy, you, by your carelessness 
and want of thought, make Jesus bear again the heavy 
cross of agony. 

O blessed Jesus ! by thy cross and passion, give us 
strength so to mortify and kill all vices in us, that we may 
die with thee to-day unto sin, and rise with thee to better 
things on the bright Easter morning ! 



280 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

XLVIL 

SEastet 3E&e. 
7HS GARDEN GRAVE. 

REV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. 

Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden ; and in 
the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid 
they Jesus. — John xix. 41, 42. 

A sepulchre in a garden. A strange place, surely; 
and a strange scene, which another of the Evangelists 
describes there. There was Mary Magdalene, and the 
other Mary, sitting over against the sepulchre. They had 
passed through all the agony of the last few terrible hours. 
The betrayal, the mockery, the crucifixion with its fearful 
accompaniments, were over ; and their excited, agonized 
feelings, strung up hitherto to the highest pitch, had now 
relaxed, and fallen to the lowest note of utter misery. 
They were watching in the garden by the grave of Jesus ; 
they were clinging, as so many thousands have done 
since that time, to the last relics of human nature ; not 
thinking of the living soul, but of the poor broken body 
which they had so recently embalmed with spices and 
with tears. It was no garden --to the two Maries : it was 
doubtless a fair spot, bright with Easter blossoms, where 
" the fig-tree put forth her green figs, and the vine with 
the tender grape gave a good smell ; " but those two 
mourners saw nothing but a wilderness, and in that wil- 



THE GARDEN GRAVE. 281 

derness a rock wherein was a sepulchre, and all they 
cared for was hidden out of sight there. 

What thoughts they must have had ! what doubts and 
fears ! for, remember, they understood few of the Master's 
words as yet. All the days must have recurred to them 
when they had walked with Jesus, and come back to 
paradise from which their mother Eve had fallen. The 
calm, quiet hours at Bethany ; that sermon which puts 
all otner preachers to silence ; the words of comfort to 
the sick and sorrowing ; the dark homes made bright 
henceforth, — such memories must have come thronging 
upon the two Maries. They must have wondered, was it 
all in vain? were his promises all misunderstood? was He 
who raised Lazarus, and the little daughter of Jairus, and 
the widow's son, really dead, and buried in that sepul- 
chre ? And so, no answer coming, their sorrow was very 
deep. They could not see Jesus : that was the reason. 
And so it is with us in our troubles : if we do not see 
Jesus, unless we know his voice and see his hand, the 
grave by which we watch seems sealed past all re-open- 
ing ; the sea of sorrow into which we have fallen seems 
like mid-ocean, unfathomable. Those mourners saw no 
flowers in the garden, because they could not see their 
Lord. So, too, with us : the world's fairest gifts fail to 
charm us. We cannot find the flowers in life's path, 
unless that path be one which we can tread along with 
our Redeemer. And the two Maries were mistaken in 
their sorrow, as we know ; a better flower than any in 
that garden was buried in that sepulchre ; the Rose of 
Sharon, of the root of Pavid, was there. Though their 



282 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

minds misgave them, their womanly instinct made them 
hope (women are ever more hopeful than men, and men 
may thank God for it), and so they waited on ; and at 
last to a woman the risen Saviour revealed himself. 

Both creations, the old and the new, took place in a 
garden. On the verge of the old world, and on the verge 
of the new, there was a garden ; and in each garden there 
was a grave. Notice the analogy between them. In the 
garden of Eden there was no death till sin entered in, 
and by sin came death ; so there was life there till the 
grave was digged by Adam's sin, the grave of all humanity. 
In the second garden, on the verge of the new creation, 
the world of the gospel, there were death and the grave 
already; and life came when Jesus was laid there. In 
Eden we see the grave triumphant. "Thou shalt surely 
die," rang out as the first funeral knell of all creation. 
No matter how good, or brave, or young, or earnest : all, 
with one or two miraculous exceptions, went down into 
that grave first opened by fallen humanity in the garden. 
The faith of the patriarch, the heroism of the prophet, 
the piety of the Psalmist, could not reverse the sentence, 
" Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return ; " and 
they went to their rest with no clear revelation to cheer 
them, though, thanks be to God, "all these died in faith." 
Now look at that other garden, and see the grave van- 
quished by the Lord of life ; see what is blazoned over 
the rocky sepulchre ; no longer " dust thou art," but " O 
death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ? " 

And now let us gather a few flowers of teaching and of 
comfort from the garden grave. " Near the place where 



THE GARDEN GRAVE. 283 

our Lord was crucified, there was a garden." So with 
us : near to where we are crucified, where we bear the 
cross of trouble and anxiety and pain, which lies more or 
less heavily on all, there is a garden. Our home is our 
garden, our way of life is our garden ; and we are always 
trying to plant it with flowers. We build our house, or we 
carve out our path in life, and work hard, and so late take 
rest, that we may enjoy ourselves, that we may comfort 
our bodies, and cherish our families, and say to our souls, 
"Thou hast much good laid up for many years: eat, 
drink, and be merry." We pull down our barns, and build 
greater ; we lay in our wines, we purchase costly orna- 
ments and furniture ; we marry the wife of our choice, — 
what is all this but planting a garden wherein we may 
enjoy ourselves? It is for this that the scholar reads 
and stores up rare volumes ; his library is his garden, 
the flowers of literature are his flowers. It is for this, the 
merchant schemes and plans new ventures ; for this the 
digger toils in the gold-fields ; for this the enthusiast 
dreams. Our thoughts, like those of foolish, feeble 
Ahab, are all set upon a garden. But in that garden, 
near to where He was crucified, there was a sepulchre ; 
and so with us, every garden has its grave in it. We do 
not see it, we do not think of it. We plant the fairest 
flowers, we cultivate the choicest fruits ; but what is a 
skull wreathed with roses more than a skull, and how is 
a grave less a grave because it is edged with blossoms? 
We all crave happiness, and our natural sense can see 
nothing but cloudless skies, thornless roses. And yet 
there is a grave in each one's garden, and we know it 



284 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. 

not ; nay, we can see the sepulchre among our neighbors'* 
flowers, and yet never suspect our own. The blight of 
bankruptcy may have come next door, the grave of com- 
mercial ruin may come within ten feet of us ; but our 
answer, is "Tush, /shall never be moved." The frost of 
disappointment has killed my neighbor's roses ; the old 
sexton Time has dug a grave next door, and buried my 
neighbor's prosperity there • the canker-worm of disease 
has eaten to the heart of his most cherished treasure, 
" his wee white rose of all the world : " but my conserva- 
tory is unblighted, my nursery is unscathed. We walk 
amongst our flowers, and see them growing up. There is 
our little child just budding ; there is our fair daughter, 
blossoming into womanhood ; there is our wife, like the 
fruitful vine upon the walls of our house. Do not talk to 
us of winter's snow, we are looking at spring and summer 
flowers ; do not talk to us of blight and canker-worm, 
there is no blight now upon our children's health ; do not 
talk to us of commercial failure, the money is growing and 
bearing fruit in our garden. And suddenly, as we wander 
along, we stumble upon a grave. It was there all along, 
and we did not know it. We planted our garden without 
a sepulchre, 'as we thought ; but the sepulchre was digged 
already, and our flowers concealed it. Then, when we 
have found it, all is changed. Travellers tell us that after 
a storm in the tropics, the garden so lately beautiful with 
blossoms is converted in a few hours to a waste of sand 
and ruin. So with us : no sooner does the sepulchre in 
our garden open, than we see nothing but a wilderness 
made by the tempest of affliction ; and we sit over 



THE GARDEN GRAVE. 285 

against the sepulchre as the women did, and cry, " Tis 
all barren, all lost ! where are my flowers ? My daughter, 
herself the fairest flower, is cut off; my peace of mind, 
which bloomed so tranquilly in the shade, is blighted for- 
ever. Oh the weariness of it ! Oh, wretched man that I 
am ! " So we talk at first, as we sit over against the sepul- 
chre. But by and by we find that Jesus Christ is buried 
in that sepulchre, and that he will come forth to comfort 
us ; and then all is changed, as it was for the Maries. 
We shall find far better flowers springing from that grave 
of sorrow than any which we planted : they withered, but 
these shall endure. Such flowers as peace, and hope, and 
faith, and love, and joy in the Holy Ghost, — these are 
everlasting, these are immortelles ; and you always find 
them upon a grave. Let us have these flowers in our gar- 
den, my brethren ; and then we need not mourn as those 
without hope, if the other flowers of domestic joy, and 
comfort, and wealth, and honor, which we planted, wither 
away, or are plucked up by the roots. Only let us re- 
member that there is a sepulchre in our garden, be it 
never so fair, never so carefully planted. It is useless for 
us to try to make our Eden here on earth, where the 
moth and rust doth corrupt, and where the blight of sin 
and sorrow must come. Be our road in life what it will, 
be our garden bare or beautiful, be our life's journey 
rough or smooth, all alike end in a grave ; and it is use- 
less to shut our eyes to the fact. And there is nothing 
dreadful in the fact, after all : it is good for us that there 
is a sepulchre in our garden, and that our way of life 
ends there at last. Prosperity often spoils a man, sorrow 



286 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, 

oftener regenerates him. A world all flowers would 
enervate us, unfit us for bearing and doing great things ; 
but every time we sit over against a sepulchre, and bury 
some favorite sin, some too enticing desire, some too 
fondly cherished hope, we learn true manliness, true 
resignation to the inevitable will of God ; we learn that 
noblest, hardest of lessons, " to keep silence, and know 
that it is God ! " But, my brethren, that sepulchre in 
our garden of life must have Christ in it, or it will give 
us no comfort, no hope, no resurrection to better things. 
This is what the apostle means by " bearing about in his 
body the dying of the Lord Jesus. " We are too apt to 
defer really deep thoughts about Christ, and his death for 
us, till our own death presses upon us ; but we are bidden 
to live daily unto Jesus, and to die daily unto sin, and to 
carry about the memory and the meaning of our Saviour's 
death into all the occupations of our life. Will you try 
to do this ? Will you, at this most holy season, look care- 
fully into your gardens, your money garden, your home 
garden, your pleasure garden, and re-model them ? Will 
you lay them out in such a way that all your flowers in 
future may be planted round the sepulchre of Jesus ? In 
plain words, will you strive henceforth to consecrate your 
way of life, yourselves, your souls, your bodies, your 
hopes, your wishes, your money, your joys, your sor- 
rows, to the will of the risen Jesus ? Will you strive to 
bury your angry passions, your pride, your jealousy, in 
the grave of Him who has conquered sin and death ? In 
your daily life, when petty trials and vexations meet you, 
and annoy you, take them in prayer, and bury them in 



THE GARDEN GRAVE. 287 

the grave of Jesus ; when your best-loved friends are 
taken from you, and the shadow falls across your garden, 
and you see the sepulchre among the flowers, remember 
that those dear ones are safe, buried in the grave of Jesus. 
When your rebellious feelings rise within you, when your 
duty is thrust aside by your own selfish wishes, take them 
and bury them deep in the holy sepulchre, and seal the 
stone with the signet of earnest repentance. And at last, 
dear brethren, the Easter-tide will come to your garden \ 
the sepulchre will open, and your joy will be full, your 
best hopes more than realized, your greatest losses more 
than compensated for : since, if we have been buried with 
him, our Resurrection and our Life, we shall rise with 
him, — rise to that land where there is no sepulchre, and 
where all tears are wiped away forever. 



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